I was a teenager when my son was born, so I'll admit to being a fuck up on a case-by-case basis as mom's go, but I did the best I knew to do and I loved him quite emphatically. My mother spent most of my life trying to convince me that the people I cared most about did not like me and only said they loved me out of obligation. It's insidious behaviour. You can never get rid of the doubt once that seed is planted. For this story I took liberties by combining events. My son (who is not named Max) was actually six when I overheard her telling him I did not love him. He was old enough for us to talk about, for me to clarify and dispel doubts. He told me she'd been whispering it to him for a long time. We moved away shortly after.
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Moms are awesome, but only when you're the mom.
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And thank you for reading.
I haven't gotten to do my reading yet.
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Tis sad... so sorry it happened.
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