I worried constantly that I was becoming another job for them.

Yet they made time for their own routines: Beatrice still went to her book club, and Richard still walked the dog before sunrise.

I was part of the house, not its sole emergency.

One afternoon I tried to put away a stack of clean baby clothes by myself.

I leaned too far, a sharp pain went through my ribs, and I sat down on the bed crying in frustration.

Beatrice found me and folded the remaining clothes without comment.