I’m Amber, I’m thirty-four, I’ve been married to Jack for ten years, and I have a seven-year-old daughter named Mia. Recently, I’ve been busier than I’ve ever been in my life, which is saying a lot considering I’m a corporate attorney.
My mother’s health has deteriorated over the last year, and we’ve been devoting ourselves to her hospital stays, therapy sessions, and medication that cost far more than I like to acknowledge.
To cover everything, I’ve been working long hours because I’d do anything for my mother.
Jack has been the best partner and rock I could have ever hoped for. He has stepped up at home in ways I never thought or anticipated. Jack has taken over the cooking, cleaning, assisting Mia with her academics, and managing all of the minor tasks I used to manage.
Last night, however, everything shifted before I could gather my breath.
I arrived home late, fatigued, starving, and about to collapse. After hurriedly eating a bowl of salmon and rice while Mia had a bath, I put her to bed. As she fell asleep, Mia whispered something about puppets.
“I didn’t know that you could put your hand in a socket and it would be a puppet,” she said.
“A sock, my darling,” I said. “Not a socket! Don’t you ever put your hand in a socket, Mia.”
I began by picking up her dolls, which were scattered across the carpet in her room, before moving on to the coffee table in the living room. That’s when I discovered it. A sketch.
A child’s sketch of a happy family. A guy, a lady, and a little daughter are holding hands. But as I glanced closer, my gut wrenched.
The man was Jack. The tiny girl was unmistakably Mia. What about the woman? Definitely not me.
She had long brown hair and wore a flowing wedding gown. Under the drawing, in Mia’s small handwriting, came the words that crushed my heart:
I can’t wait for you to be my mom!
I carried the picture to Mia’s bed and sat on the side, hoping to awaken her sufficiently to gain answers.
“Darling girl, can you tell me about this drawing?” I asked her calmly.
Mia’s cheeks flushed as she looked at the painting, and she seized the paper from my hand, clutching it to her chest.
“You weren’t supposed to find that! Daddy said to hide it better!” she blurted out.
Hide it better? Jack? Hide what better?
I hardly slept that night. My mind was racing. I thought about my mother, about the tasks I still had to finish before going to work the next day, and about my marriage.
By the morning, I was sitting in the kitchen, waiting for Jack to get ready for work. Mia had already left for school.
“What is this?” I demanded, shoving the drawing in his hands.
“Wait, wait,” he stammered, raising his palms defensively. “It’s not what you think, Amber. Let me explain it all to you.”
“Come with me,” he said.
“We’re going to Mia’s school. I need to show you something,” he said.
When we got to the school, Jack squeezed my knee. As we walked to the reception area, he gripped my hand and asked for Mia’s teacher, Clara.
She had to be the woman in Mia’s drawing; it was unmistakable.
“Look, Mia’s been having a tough time lately,” she began. “She’s mentioned feeling like her mom doesn’t have time for her anymore. I’ve tried to reassure her, but she’s… well, look, she’s seven. And she’s been drawing a lot of pictures to process her feelings.”
Clara handed me a stack of drawings, and I felt my heart sink as I glanced through them.
“So, you’ve been spending time with my daughter?” I asked, unable to hide the edge in my voice.
I looked at Jack, my chest tightening.
Jack seemed unhappy.
“I found that picture last week,” he admitted. “I told Mia it wasn’t true, that you love her more than anything. But I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t want to make it worse by bringing it up when you were already so stressed out. I told her to put the drawing away because I knew it would hurt you.”
That night, I sat with Mia at the kitchen table. I had served us bowls of ice cream with all of the toppings, hoping for a bonding moment between us.
“Sweetheart,” I said softly. “I need to tell you something. I know I haven’t been around as much lately, and I’m so, so sorry. Grandma needs a lot of help right now, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. You’re my everything, sweet girl.”
Mia’s eyes welled with tears, and she wrapped her arms around me.
“I love you more than anything,” I said, holding her tightly. “Nothing will ever change that.”
In the weeks that followed, I made a few lifestyle modifications.
I also had a poignant conversation with Clara, thanking her for being an excellent teacher and for being there for Mia when I couldn’t be.
Life isn’t perfect, but it’s much better. I’m learning to ask for help and put Mia first. And now, whenever she picks up her crayons, I make sure I sit right next to her.
