So aside from the fact that my hormones are out of whack, I’ve had zero sleep, and my fat jeans are tight, I also find myself tearing up over the the look of betrayal in my daughter’s eyes as I spend hours holding, feeding, and rocking the baby. I feel helpless and torn. How can I possibly show both of them how much I love them.
After what seemed like weeks of saying no there came an afternoon where the baby was sleeping and I could actually say yes when she asked me if we could make brownies.
(Of course Kitty the Cat wanted to help she’s been feeling pretty ignored too).
As we mixed and spilled and dribbled and dripped, scraped vanilla beans and baked up a beautiful pan of brownies, I felt for an instant that everything was going to be okay. That she would remember me not as the mother who abandoned her the second her brother came along but the one who baked with her and read her books and gave hugs and kisses and loved her and her brother more than anything in this world.