In the filing cabinet upstairs, I retrieve the beautiful keepsake box my mother gave me when my son was born almost two years ago. Still in its packaging, the personalized “vault” contains over 50 labels to show what, as parents, we’re supposed to save.
As I read through them–pregnancy test, birth story, important firsts–I can’t help but feel like a failure, as I don’t have most of these things.
And the guilt has been weighing on me.
