She came over, put the doll in her daughter's arms, and gently carried her from the bed—allowing her head to lean on her own shoulders. As tired as she was, she still wanted to carry her daughter. It gave her strength and stability. Her mother's chest was not wide, her shoulders not thick; but she continued to be a source of support for her child.
"Miss Xia, we need you to come for a while. There is a test you have to do to see if your bone marrow is a suitable match for your daughter." The doctor lowered his voice intentionally for fear of waking the child up. Her small face looked exhausted. She needed to rest more. She wouldn't be able to feel pain when she's sleeping.
At three years old, what could she possibly know or understand? The pain was too much for an adult. It was cruel to let a child as young as her to bear it.
