“Mooooooommmmmmyyyyyyyyyy!” My 2-year-old screams as I seek solace in the darkness of my bedroom closet. My knees are pulled into my chest as I sit there, back against the door, like a thief in the night dreading capture.
I hear my husband murmur the words, “Mommy needs some breathing time. Let’s give her some space, OK?” As they walk away, I finally hear what I was craving.
Silence. My sigh of relief is what brought upon the waterworks I had been holding back. The failure as a mom hit me like a ton of bricks.Read more on themighty.com