chest.
Motherhood was exhausting, but I was happy.
Then came Sophie.
Then Michael.
Then Anna.
Then James.
The years seemed to pass in a blur of hospital appointments, school uniforms, birthday cakes, grocery lists, and laundry baskets.
Whenever I began thinking seriously about returning to work, another pregnancy changed our plans.
Richard always had the same response.
“Let’s wait until the baby is older.”
Or, “We can’t afford childcare right now.”
Or, “The children need you more than some office does.”
Sometimes he said it gently. Sometimes he made it
