But the truth was that I wanted to help and be with Teri more, and she wanted me with her, so I was. And I knew things like sandwiches and socks were important to her. I, meanwhile, sat around a lot in my nursing gown and robe, crying or about to cry. I held out a glimmer of hope though that his mother, Teri, might somehow help return me to myself. Yet because my lead-up to motherhood had been nearly picture-perfect — a happy marriage, a wanted pregnancy, a birth so smooth my OB had said I should have a whole football team of kids — it took me several weeks to understand that while Hope was healthy, I was not. Two days after the funeral I felt exhausted and empty and ready, at last, to go to Mom.
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