“You’re the person she looks to for safety,” the therapist said.

“Your ability to remain calm and present matters too.”

So I made an appointment.

I talked about Claire’s death.

About how badly I wanted Hailey to have a mother figure.

About the quiet fear that I wasn’t enough for her on my own.

At one point I admitted something I had never said aloud: I had loved the idea of our repaired family so much that I sometimes ignored the actual child in front of me.

My counselor didn’t excuse that.