She laughs and after another hug, we both sit down again. I try to keep up my smile, but it’s not the smile of an elated expectant mother. She sees that almost immediately. She slides a hand over her mouth. “Sweetie,” she whispers. “What’s the matter?”

Until this moment, I’ve fought to remain strong. I’ve fought to not feel too sorry for myself when I’m around other people. But sitting here with my mother, I crave weakness. I just want to be able to give up for a little while. I want her to take over and hug me and tell me it’ll all be okay. And for the next fifteen minutes while I cry in her arms, that’s exactly what happens. I just stop fighting for myself because I need someone else to do it for me.

I spare her most of the details of our relationship, but I do tell her the most important things. That he’s hurt me on more than one occasion, and I don’t know what to do. That I’m scared to have this baby alone. That I’m scared I might make the wrong decision. That I’m scared I’m being too weak and that I should have had him arrested. That I’m scared I’m being too sensitive and I don’t know if I’m overreacting. Basically, I tell her everything I haven’t even been brave enough to fully admit to myself.

She retrieves some napkins out of the kitchen and comes back to the table. After our eyes are finally dry, she begins to crumple the napkin up between her hands, rolling it over in circles as she stares down at it.

“Do you want to take him back?” she asks.

I don’t say yes. But I also don’t say no.

This is the first moment since this has happened that I’m being completely honest. I’m honest to her and to myself. Maybe because she’s the only one I know who has been through this. She’s the only one I know who would understand the massive amounts of confusion I’ve been experiencing.

I shake my head, but I also shrug. “Most of me feels like I’ll never be able to trust him again. But a huge part of me grieves what I had with him. We were so good together, Mom. The times I spent with him were some of the best moments of my life. And occasionally I feel like maybe I don’t want to give that up.”

I wipe the napkin beneath my eye, soaking up more tears. “Sometimes . . . when I’m really missing him . . . I tell myself that maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe I could put up with him when he’s at his worst just so I can have him when he’s at his best.”

She puts her hand on top of mine and rubs her thumb back and forth. “I know exactly what you mean, Lily. But the last thing you want to do is lose sight of your limit. Please don’t allow that to happen.”