Jane
When the pups are finally asleep, I slip out of their room, closing the door at my back and leaning against it. My knees feel weak and shaky, and I’m thankful for the solid wood at my back keeping me upright. I clench my eyes shut, trying to take deep breaths and calm down.
That was one of the hardest conversations I’ve ever had as a mother. Not because it was particularly contentious or fraught, but simply because it upsets me to no end to think my pups have been taking the responsibility for my sadness onto themselves. I haven’t been doing my job. I’ve been so caught up in my own grief that I didn’t even realize I was hurting my babies, making them stressed and anxious. Instead of taking care of them, they’ve been trying to take care of me.
When I finally open my eyes again, I
