“Tell me I’m a good mom,” I say to my husband, Chris. Most of the time when I say that, I’m half-joking. This time, I’m not.
We’re sitting on our couch side by side. I’m usually writing or reading blogs while he watches people play video games on YouTube. Today, I’m staring blankly at the turned-off TV. He looks up.
“You’re a good mom,” he replies. He’s not smiling. His seriousness just reinforces my worry.
“We’ve done what we can, right? I mean, I think it would have been worse if we had done other things.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.”