The Longest Recovery
Healing was harder than I ever imagined.
The incision throbbed. The stairs were impossible. Nights blurred into endless feedings, tears, and exhaustion that felt like gravity itself.
My mother called once, three days later — to ask about the baby’s weight, then gush about dolphins and spa treatments.
She never asked how I was.
She never said sorry.
My sister commented under my birth post:
“Omg so cute! Congrats!! ❤️”
As if she hadn’t skipped her nephew’s first breath.
Marcus became my anchor — cooking, cleaning, learning diapers, running on caffeine. We didn’t label what we were anymore. We just were.
Together.
