you were told that being a mother was the greatest gift you could ever receive, that you needn’t worry, because all girls have natural maternal instincts. it will all come to you the moment your child is born, they said.

yet a year have passed since you birthed your two twins, and you still cannot shake the feelings of inadequacy.

you find yourself struggling to even produce milk to feed your twins, despite being desperate to be able to feed them yourself. instead, more often than not, you’re forced to hand them over to a wet nurse to receive sustenance.

you love your children, you really do. they are your world, but gods, its just so difficult.

no one told you that being a parent was so hard. no one told you about the sleepless nights, and the constant crying. no one told you how hopelessly overwhelmed and exhausted you constantly feel. it is an endless cycle and you can feel yourself holding on by a thread, which is steadily fraying.

your husband, daemon, seems to face none of these troubles. being a father seems so natural to him, being the perfect balance of caring and strict. which is a good thing, yes, and you are so glad that is devoted to his children as much as he is to you, but it only adds to your spiralling feelings.

it is now, when the two of you are lying in bed, after putting the girls to sleep in their cradles, that you can’t contain your tears, and they come out in wracked sobs of despair.

“sweetling?” daemons voice sounds panicked, as if this sudden outburst of emotion came from nowhere. he wraps his arms around you in a comforting embrace, “what troubles you, darling? talk to me.”

one of his hands cups your cheek, the pad of his thumb wiping your tears as he meets your gaze, a look of worry on his face as your sobs continue.