He barely looked up while checking his bag.
Then he shrugged.
“You wanted to be a mother, so act like one.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
Not because I didn’t know how to care for my children.
I knew.
I’d been doing it every day.
They hurt because they made it sound as though motherhood was my responsibility alone.
As though the two children we had dreamed about together belonged only to me.
I stood there holding my daughter’s bottle.
I wanted him to realize what he was saying.
I wanted him to apologize.
Instead, I said nothing.
I let him leave.
Four Days of Silence
At 3:14 the next morning, I was sitting on the nursery floor.
One baby was resting against each side of me.
