That must have been terrifying for Salome—her quiet panic on the monitor, the sudden reminder of a childhood fear she never fully processed. What felt like a clever trick to you was, for her, an echo of being silenced when a dog bit her cousin and no one stood up for the scared kid.
When she saw Miso in Levi’s crib, it wasn’t just about tonight’s safety—it was about every time her own vulnerability was dismissed. Your instinct was to solve the problem quickly, but hers was to guard against an old wound reopening.
I’m glad you made that park date and really listened to what she carried inside. You both took a hard step—acknowledging that true safety isn’t just about who’s in the crib, but who’s holding each other’s fears in their hands.
Now Miso naps just outside the nursery door, and every night you’re both reminded: real protection honors not only the body but the heart’s unspoken history. Sometimes the bravest thing is to stay with the discomfort long enough to truly hear someone you love.
