When the babies were four months old, I returned to work part-time from home.
My supervisor, Linda, gave me every bit of flexibility she could.
I processed invoices during naps.
I answered emails while pumping milk.
I balanced spreadsheets at midnight.
Sometimes I would join video meetings with spit-up on my shirt.
I hated how embarrassed I felt.
I hated even more that Adam never had to feel embarrassed at all.
For months, I imagined where he might be.
Was he in another state?
Did he have another woman?
Was he sitting alone somewhere regretting everything?
Did he think about us?
Did he ever wake up at 3:00 a.m. and wonder whether his children were safe?
Eventually, imagination became exhausting.
So I stopped.
I filed for divorce.
Adam couldn’t be located at first.
My attorney helped me go through the process available when one spouse had disappeared and
