I just left E's room, she's been sleeping for hours already. Cozy in her bed, wearing those fuzzy footsie pajamas, all rosy cheeked. D and I have made a habit of kissing on her after she's asleep at night . I breathe her in. That sweaty-shampoo scent, it makes my stomach drop. She looks the same as she did as a baby when she's sleeping. Pouting lips, long eyelashes, and her arms flung above her head. That smell, I can't get over it. It's how we mom's know our children. It's so animalistic, so basic, scent evokes something that nothing else can.*An episode of This American Life addresses this in a unique way, take a listen. (Act 2 in Lockup)
"Act Two. Mother's Day.
As the number of female prisoners climbs, visiting rooms are packed on Mother's Day. Eighty percent of female inmates have children at home. Amanda Coyne has been to a number of these Mother's Days, bringing her nephew to visit his mother and Amanda's sister. Among the difficult moments that come with these visits: What do you say to a five-year-old who wants to know if mommy is a bad guy? (10 minutes)"
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