She’s seven months old here, a cupcake with a peach-fuzz top. She could sit up by then, but unsteadily, so my arm is behind her like a guardrail.

I wasn’t worried then, just harried in the way that moms with babies are. I had a to-do list like everyone else, and on that day, it included a home photo shoot of Julianna in her pretty new dress. (I’m so glad we did it. She is like a dream here…)

Safety is usually not on a parent’s to-do list because it’s instinctive, a given. When the car lurches forward during heavy braking, you don’t think about holding your arm out in front of your child: it just happens. Logically, you know that it wouldn’t work, that your arm would just break if it had to do the work of a seatbelt. You don’t dwell on it though, because the thought of not being able to protect your child is too much. 

I could not protect Julianna from her own body, but I tried to keep her safe. In the end, she didn’t need guardrails, she needed a cradle. That’s what my arms became, nine years ago today.