The night I brought my newborn daughter home, my mother was waiting in my driveway beside a moving truck. “Perfect timing,” she smiled. “We’re moving in tonight.” I was barely able to stand after my C-section, but when her husband started carrying boxes toward my nursery, I pulled out my phone. “Put that down.” Mom laughed. “What are you going to do?” She stopped laughing when I said, “Call the police.”
The night I brought my newborn daughter home, my mother stood in my driveway beside a rented moving truck. She smiled like she was bringing a gift instead of taking over my house.
I’d been awake nearly thirty hours. My husband, Evan, held our daughter, Lily, against his chest while I eased out of the car, still sore from an emergency C-section.
“Mom?” I stared at the truck. “What is this?”
She clapped once. “Perfect timing. We’re moving in tonight.”
