By the time I was old enough to leave home, I thought I understood the basics of motherhood. I had spent 18 years being raised by a mom, so I knew what was involved.
In my mind, being a good mother was simple. Mothers had the kids. They fed the kids. They washed the kids, tucked them in at night, encouraged them to behave, and occasionally threatened to tell their fathers when they got out of line.
Mothers also cried over their children. At my house, the best I could hope for was that it wasn’...
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