But one morning, carrying a basket of laundry across my kitchen, I suddenly had to sit down.

My body was exhausted, my emotions were raw, and I had been pretending a person could give birth, manage a seven-year-old’s life, and hold an extended family together without needing rest.

Mrs.

Alvarez found me on the sofa when she arrived with a casserole.

She put the dish on the counter and sat beside me.

“Who is looking after you?” she asked.

I started to list people who had offered help.