The first few days of motherhood are supposed to be a time of soft lighting quiet whispers and a gentle cocoon of recovery but my experience was shattered by a blatant invasion of privacy and a shocking betrayal of trust. Just days after undergoing a major C section I was navigating the grueling physical reality of post operative healing. Every movement was a calculated effort and every task from warming a bottle to lifting my newborn son Spencer felt like climbing a mountain while weighted down by lead. My body was still a map of pain and my mind was a fog of exhaustion. It was in this vulnerable state that my sister in law Becca decided to descend upon my home without warning bringing her husband and three boisterous children in tow for an uninvited holiday stay. Before I could even find the breath to protest she was already hauling suitcases into my hallway announcing her arrival with a cheerful entitlement that completely ignored the surgical staples in my abdomen.
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