Crying

R cries in the car. Wails, screams, until she sounds like a wounded cat and hiccups, catching her breath in short gasps. My heart breaks in two and I curse myself for doing this to her, for my need for us to go the vet/ return home from a friend/ go food shopping.
R also cries when I leave her. First, she will call me as I walk away from her, reminding me of her existence. If I ignore her calls, she breaks out in cries so heart wrenching and snotty, that I come back to her, pick her up and remind her that Mommy was just going to the bathroom or going to get the mail. Every time I have left her with anyone else when she was awake, it has ended with puffy eyes and a red nose.
On one of our last rides to I don't remember where, when R was vocally protesting the car seat law, I asked myself why can't she not cry when riding in the car? Why can't she just sit back and enjoy the ride? Better yet, why do I have to even bring her everywhere with me? Why can't she stay happily at home with a babysitter? Why does she cry like this?
And then I understood. She cries like this because if she didn't I would leave her. She knows that without her protests, her mother would be off to ceramic classes, yoga lessons and coffee with friends and she would be left with a stranger. From her point of view, being without Mommy means being without food, without warmth, without protection. So she fights with all her baby weapons to stay close to me because she needs me. I give in to those needs but not without much difficulty.