The Price of Playing Saint: How I Severed Ties with My Toxic Mother
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Summary
Three months postpartum, I fractured my leg. My husband, Liam, was so worried about me that he spent a fortune booking the most sought-after postpartum doula in the city. He even put down a $7,000 deposit.
My mom was looking at the doula’s impressive resume, singing her praises, and was just about to call and tell her to start tomorrow.
I reached out and pressed the end-call button on her phone.
"Don't bother," I said. "Aunt Susan is about to come over and hijack her."
Ever since I could remember, my mother had been a "bleeding heart."
