“Mom, she’s not sleeping because she doesn’t care.”
I frowned. “Then what’s going on?”
Those words stunned me. He told me that:
- She barely sleeps.
- She hardly eats.
- She’s scared to hold the baby in case she drops him.
- She stays in bed because she feels like she fails at everything she tries.
“She loves our son,” he said softly. “She’s not ignoring him. She’s overwhelmed.”
Suddenly, everything I had assumed about her clicked into place. The distant stare, the shaking hands, the constant scrolling, the way she tensed when the baby cried—none of it was laziness. It was someone fighting a battle no one else could see.
My son wasn’t angry with me—just hurt. “She already thinks she’s not good enough,” he said. “Comments like yours make it worse.”
Shame washed over me. I had added to a burden she was barely able to carry.
The Apology
The next morning, I went back before my son left for work. I knocked gently. She looked nervous but let me in. Continue reading…
