During Kai's first month, I barely slept a full night. He cried constantly. I fumbled through diaper changes, feedings, soothing—often so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open.
Once, making formula at midnight, I was so tired I grabbed the thermometer instead of the measuring spoon. I didn't realize until Kai's crying jolted me awake, and I found a thermometer floating in the bottle.
I couldn't tell if he was hungry or tired, cold or hot. Every time he cried, I panicked.
"Please stop crying..." I'd hold him and cry too. "I really don't know what you need..."
Robert couldn't bear it. He even offered to break our agreement and hire help—by then I'd learned his late daughter and I bore some resemblance.
But I insisted on caring for Kai myself. He was my child. I'd chosen to bring him into this world. I had to take responsibility.
Slowly, I learned to decipher his different cries. Learned how to support his head during baths. Learned the best positions for getting him to sleep.
I watched him grow day by day—from a crying infant to a baby who could smile, roll over, crawl, walk, and talk.
Every milestone made me cry with joy.
This child became my entire reason for living. And caring for him made me reconsider my own life.
I couldn't live in the shadow of the past forever.
I had to get stronger. Succeed. Give Kai the best life possible.
I wanted him to say proudly, "That's my mom."
Robert saw my determination and started teaching me jewelry design.
"You have talent," he said, studying my sketches. "And your experiences give you a unique perspective. Pain can be transformed into creative power."
So I threw myself into learning, working. Caring for Kai during the day, then sketching designs after he fell asleep at night. Sometimes I'd pass out at the table and wake up to find drool stains on my drawings.
But I had to do it. Had to truly restart my life.
Outside the kindergarten, parents clustered in small groups waiting for their children. I stood at the edge, removing my sunglasses to search for Kai.
The bell rang. Children poured out like birds taking flight.
"Mommy!"
That familiar voice. I turned to see Kai with his little dinosaur backpack, waving frantically.
He ran so fast he nearly tripped over his shoelaces.
"Slow down!" I rushed over to steady him. "You klutz!"
"I'm okay!" Kai grinned, showing off a gap where a tooth used to be. "Mommy, look! My tooth came out!"
He opened his mouth wide, proud as anything.
"Wow, it really did!" I played along with appropriate amazement. "The tooth fairy will come tonight!"
"Really?!" Kai's eyes lit up. "Will she give me money?"
"She will, if you put the tooth under your pillow."
"Then I'll buy... buy..." Kai counted on his fingers. "A really big dinosaur toy! And lollipops! And..."
"Alright, alright." I cut him off with a laugh. "Let's get in the car first. You can think about it on the way home."
