I never cut corners. I paid for the best ingredients myself—chicken broth, fish soup, pork trotter stew—a different one simmering on the stove every day.
The baby woke every two or three hours through the night—crying and needing to be soothed, hungry and needing to be fed, soiled and needing to be changed.
I was afraid the noise would disturb Virginia's rest, so I always carried the baby out to the living room alone to settle her.
By the time she finally fell asleep, dawn was already breaking.
Again I had to go buy groceries. Again I had to cook breakfast.
Then it was back to housework, changing diapers, feeding the baby, rocking him to sleep. Over and over and over.
For a full month, I hadn't slept a single decent night. I'd lost ten pounds from sheer exhaustion.
My body was wrecked, and my wallet wasn't far behind.
Groceries alone, plus formula and diapers, had cost me at least twenty thousand.
And after all that, I was the one being accused of freeloading?
I stared at my daughter, unable to believe what I was hearing.
"Ginny, go ahead and tell me—how exactly have I been taking advantage of you?"
Virginia's brow creased slightly, a flicker of impatience crossing her face.