“I sacrificed,” I tell her. “Put my kids’ needs first. Lost my marriage and a fair number of friends along the way who couldn’t understand that. Made plenty of new friends who did.”

“Umm hmm.”

“But I never met a woman who got it. Who would enter my world and let me enter hers and share the kind of love you only find through family.”

“And I’m that woman?”

Time stops. Seconds tick by. Then a full minute, as I close my own eyes and listen to the voice inside me that wants to say what’s true.

Yes, my heart beats.

I open my mouth to say it, and—

She’s fallen asleep.

Chapter 19

Chloe

We all knew this day was coming, right? The official First Day Back to Work. I stretched my maternity leave as far as I could, stacking accrued vacation and sick leave into a longer break than most moms receive in the United States. Leaving home for ten consecutive hours feels like preparing for a space mission. Five o’clock tonight might as well be ten years away. I can’t even foresee returning.

I read that something like seventy percent of mothers in the US work outside the home. Know how many women that is? Thirty-one million. A few lines below that statistic, this caught my eye: “Eighty-six percent of working mothers say they ‘sometimes/frequently’ feel stressed.”

So it’s not just me.

On the other hand, the percentage of working mothers who report being ‘very happy’? Eighty-five percent.

Deep breath. I can do this.

News flash, Chloe: you have to do this.

My original idea was to reappear in my office today looking pretty much the way I imagine Victoria Beckham looks when she turns up at her office to design her next collection. Cool and calm, fully accessorized, immaculate. She has four kids, right? (I know, probably eight nannies, too, but still.)

Well, that was the concept.

I laid out an outfit last night after Holly went to sleep, but it involved a silk tunic, and I quickly realized that would result in a trip to the dry cleaner. I have no time for another errand. So I rearranged, based around a little cashmere cardigan, but if she spits up, cardigan ruined, so no.

Okay, Round Three. Black knit dress, washable. Black patterned tights, washable. Black boots, waterproof. Something tells me this is my new uniform. I can just be hosed down at the end of the day.

There’s probably a special booth for that at O.

Alarm goes off at five a.m. I shower, find the hairdryer, blow my hair dry. Put on full makeup for the first time in months, eye shadow, mascara, red lips. The face looking back at me from the mirror looks both familiar and very strange.

Then Holly wakes up, and I can hear her over the baby monitor, cooing to herself. I go in to pick her up. She is laying on her back, touching her fingers together in wonder, perfectly happy. I appear in her line of sight and her face lights with a joyous smile of recognition, and now I am perfectly happy, too. But as I lean over the crib, her eyes - fixed on my face - go round with surprise and consternation. Her little face puckers. She begins to cry. I pick her up, but she is holding herself rigid and is now looking away from me, sobbing.

Noises in the kitchen tell me that Jemma has just arrived, and a few moments later she peeks in the room.

“Good morning, what’s going on?”

“I think it’s stranger anxiety. She doesn’t recognize me with makeup.”

“Give her to me. I always look the same.” Jem takes Holly from my arms. “Go get ready.”

By the time I gather up my bag and tote and put on my coat, Holly’s sobs have reduced to just hiccups, but she still refuses to look at me. I hate leaving her this way. I kiss the back of her head and drag myself out to the car.

Peak commuter time, traffic stopped on the Mass Ave bridge to Boston. Traffic stopped in every direction, in fact. I am going to be late on my first day back. Everyone will already be at their desks, so they will all see me slouching in. Busted.

And I need to show them that nothing has changed. I can handle it all.

I reach the final intersection, only one car ahead of me now, when the light turns yellow. Shit! Another light cycle means seven more minutes sitting here. In a minor panic, I gun it and make the left turn just as the light goes red.

I’m about thirty yards down the street when I see another light in my rear-view mirror, very bright and flashing blue. Oh please, no.

Yep. Moving violation, $150. Pulled over for thirty-five minutes. The officer was unimpressed with my explanation.

By the time I pull into the parking garage where O reserves space for employees, I have been awake and trying to get here for four hours. I could have driven to Newark, New Jersey, in that amount of time. I approach my assigned space and just as I am turning into it, I see Carrie’s red junker sitting there. I slam on the brakes just in time. The sudden stop propels my coffee out of the cup holder and across my thigh.

And still I do not cry.

I park behind Carrie’s car and blot the coffee from my dress with a Pamper from the glove box. I knew washable was the way to go. I sling my tote bag over my arm and slide out of the car. That was no fun, but it’s over. I’m here.

My professional day starts now.

I open the trunk to get the emergency umbrella I keep there - see? I am capable and prepared for any conditions. Except the umbrella is now buried beneath a collapsible stroller and a six-pack of paper towels, so I put down everything in my hands and unearth the umbrella. Load up again with tote bag, slam the trunk shut, and at the exact second I hear the car’s automatic locks engage, I remember.

I set down the keys on the left side of the trunk. Inside it.

Channel Kelly Clarkson. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

As I am setting down my bag, Carrie bursts into my office, a look of horror on her face. “Chloe! I forgot you were coming in today! I’ll move my car right away!”

“Good luck with that,” is all I can muster. “Actually, could you please just get me some coffee?”

It’s 9:20. I am exhausted.

“Yes!” she responds enthusiastically. “We have Grind It Fresh! now, did you know? It’s changed my life.”

“I don’t think I can take any more life changes right now, Carrie. Just black coffee.”

There is so much stuff piled up in my office, it’s going to take me a month just to clear a space. I get started.