A Glimmer of Hope

My heart is full tonight.

I’ve been missing my babies so deeply—but tonight, I got to talk to two of my girls. And it brought the kind of peace only a mom could understand.

It started with a text from E:

“Can I FaceTime you? Baby girl is asking for you.”

I don’t think I’ve ever hit “call” so fast in my life.

The night before, I had FaceTimed CCC and baby girl. CCC looked drained. Baby girl was completely dysregulated. The second she saw me, she burst into tears. She asked when I was coming to get her, begged me to come now, cried about the bugs—she was just overwhelmed and heartbroken. And honestly, so was I. As much as I had longed to see her, that call left us both feeling worse.

But tonight was different.

Baby girl was asking for me.

When I called, E picked up, glowing as she told me about her day, her week, and everything in between. Her sweet smile calmed my anxious heart.

Then baby girl came running into the room. Her face lit up. She asked where I was, when she’d be back with me, if D was there. Unlike the night before, I could actually tell her I’d be picking her up soon—and she didn’t spiral. I talked to her about my new car and our new house, and she listened with wide-eyed excitement.

E told me baby girl had already mentioned the new car and couldn’t wait to ride in it. I showed her the new car seat, and she just kept repeating:“Thank you, Mommy! Thank you, Mommy!”

We talked about the diving toys I got for the pool.“Oh wow!! Oh wow!!” she squealed.It felt so good to talk about the future. About fun. About us.

And then—too soon—E said, “Oh I think someone is coming,” and the screen went black.

I still miss my other babies so much. I haven’t seen their faces in person in 9 days and 14 hours. But I keep whispering to myself:

It will all be okay.

Tonight gave me something I desperately needed: a moment of reassurance.My baby girl hasn’t forgotten me.

She still loves me.

She still wants to come home to me.

I know it might sound dramatic, but this is uncharted territory. I used to be with them 24/7. I was their everything. And now—especially during the summer—I'm without them for long stretches. It’s unnatural. It’s painful. And I’m bitter about it.

But tonight?

Tonight, I felt hope.

After the call, E texted me again:“Baby girl just said, ‘Mommy is my favorite.’”

And that was it. The tears came, fast and hard.

She still knows.

She still feels it.

And I’m still her mom. Always.