I never imagined I’d be writing this, but here I am, needing to vent and share the valuable lesson my husband learned the hard way.
I’m 32 and stepping into motherhood. My husband, Dave, is 34 and has always had a bit of a complicated relationship with his mother. Marlene is the type of mother who called for every little thing, expecting him to drop everything and come as soon as she needed.
“Hey, Aria,” Dave would say. “Mom needs me, I’ll be right back.” And he would dash out of the house, ready to save the day.
I used to find it endearing until the day I went into labor. I was at 38 weeks, and I knew that the time was coming. One evening, I felt the contractions start.
