He vanished quickly down the dimly lit hallway. A minute later, the infant’s crying softened into complete silence. I reached over to the nightstand and picked up my warm cup of herbal tea. It was still perfectly hot.
For months, I had foolishly believed that being a good mother meant carrying every burden alone until I snapped. Then I broke my arm and learned something infinitely better. Good mothers do not have to prove how much pain they can survive, and fathers should never have to be begged to be fathers.
