Renate lay in bed and watched the raindrops crawl down the window, willing herself to fall asleep for just a moment. Without rest, there was no way she could keep going.
There might be a secret to mothering, but she sure as hell didn’t know it.
She had been expecting a kind of superpower to kick in once Sammy was born. She thought it would be like a switch coming on – the baby would arrive and then she would *know* what to do.
Every mother she knew had it down to a science. Their competence shone while she fumbled.
She could tell by looking at them that they would be able to lift a car to save their babies but she couldn’t even remember whether she had put the blankets in the dryer. She had given up trying to line-dry them like a good mother would.
She had no superpowers. There had been no switch.
Sammy whimpered in the other room, and Renate found herself reaching into the bassinet without any memory of having left her own bed.
“It’s okay, little one,” she whispered, her hand on his back, “I’m here.”