A month ago, I gave birth to my daughter. Not long after, I discovered that every night my husband was secretly taking my b/rea/st milk to his mother’s house. I decided to follow him quietly one night. What I witnessed shook me deeply.
I nodded, understanding her more than I could put into words. “He’s always been like that. He helps, even when he doesn’t have to. But I think he’s learned, too—learned that it’s okay to ask for help, that it’s okay to share things with me.”
Laura’s expression softened. “I think we both learned that, didn’t we?”
