After Valerie's appointment with her therapist, I began to work on my article. I spent an hour working on my drafts, and I came up with absolutely nothing.
What the hell do I know about remaining fashionable during motherhood?! When I was pregnant with Claire, I wasn't walking around in designer dresses and heels. I was wearing maternity shirts and the stretchiest pants I could find. When Valerie was a baby, I didn't spoil her with clothes and toys. I loved her and treated her like a normal baby.
I can't write this article. I can't work at Vogue. I can't do this.
"Mommy?" Valerie called from her bedroom. When we came home from her appointment, I put her down for a nap.
I made my way upstairs and went to her room. She was huddled under her blanket when I found her, and she was wide awake.
"What's going on, Valerie?" I asked, sitting on her bed.
"When can I go to school?" She asked. She woke up from her nap just to ask me that?
"Soon. Now, get some sleep."
"I'm not tired. Can I stay with you?" She asked.
"Of course, sweetie." I said, bringing her downstairs and continuing my work. I got a few pages done, but I still needed to edit it.
A few hours passed, and Toby came home when I expected him to. Except, he came in the house eager and excited for some reason.
"Spencer! I have some news!"
"What?" I asked, shocked by his eagerness.
"The adoption agency called. There's a baby boy.. His name is Dylan. They want us to adopt him."