The day can be the worst or the best. I can yell a million times or not at all. But when it's night, and the babies are sleeping, I go back and check if I can nuzzle in with one of the older girls. Tonight it was Grace.
I tell her a million stories of when she was younger. Random memories of her peeing on the floor or saying something funny or having a birthday party.
I know it should be the other way around. I should be comforting them. But when I'm lying in their arms, and they tuck my hair behind my ears, I just know everything will be all right.