I wish I could tell you this was just in my head. That it was simply stress or exhaustion making me suspicious. But I wasn’t imagining it. And I would give anything to have been wrong.

My name is Martha. My husband, Jason, and I both work full-time, so our four-year-old daughter, Beverly, spends most weekdays at daycare. It’s not ideal, but she was happy, and we were managing.

One morning, as I packed her lunch, I said to Jason, “I don’t want Bev to feel like we’re pushing her away.”
“She’s doing great, love,” he reassured me. Continues…