"So I stayed away."
The social worker took a slow breath.
"Traumatic experiences can lead people to avoid things that remind them of what happened."
The mother nodded.
"But my son wasn't something I should avoid."
The social worker's expression softened.
"No."
The mother began crying harder.
Then she looked up.
"I need help."
For the first time since the fire, the sentence came without an excuse attached.
The social worker nodded.
"That's something we can work on."
They discussed support for the mother, the child's emotional recovery, and ways to restore regular contact.
The mother agreed to seek professional help for her own trauma symptoms.
She also agreed that the boy's care team should guide conversations about the fire so he wouldn't feel responsible for his mother's distress.
Then the social worker asked whether she was ready to see him.
The mother hesitated.
Her hands were shaking.
But she nodded.
"Yes."
They walked down the corridor.
Outside the child's room, the mother stopped.
Through the partially open door, she could hear a television playing softly.
A nurse was speaking to him.
The boy laughed.
The sound almost broke her.
She hadn't heard him laugh in eleven days.
The mother placed one hand against the doorway.
Then stepped inside.
Her son was sitting upright against the pillows.
A coloring book rested on his lap.
His soft pink shirt was visible above the blanket, and a small stuffed dog sat beside him.
For one moment, he didn't notice her.
Then he looked toward the door.
His expression changed.
He stared.
The mother couldn't move.
The boy blinked.
"Mommy?"
Her lips trembled.
"Hi, baby."
The child looked toward the nurse.
Then back at his mother.
For a moment, he seemed uncertain whether she was really there.
The mother approached slowly.
She stopped beside the bed.
Her hands remained at her sides.
She didn't want to hurt him.
Didn't know whether he wanted to be touched.
The boy stared.
Then whispered, "You came back."
The mother began crying.
"Yes."
He looked down.
"Where were you?"
The question was simple.
And devastating.
The mother took a slow breath.
She remembered the social worker's advice.
Don't make the child responsible for your feelings.
Don't invent an excuse.
And don't expect him to make you feel better about staying away.
She looked into his eyes.