My Mother Called Me “Damaged Goods” at My Sister’s Baby Shower—Then My Five Children Walked Through the Door

For years she had imagined me alone.

Broken.

Lonely.

Instead she found joy.

And joy can be surprisingly shocking when you’ve spent years believing someone else’s narrative.

We sat together while the children played.

Eventually Lily spoke.

“I believed her.”

I appreciated the honesty.

“She spent years telling me you were unhappy.”

She looked down.

“She said you continue reading …