So I’m working on my research in my study, and the nanny is with Klara in the next room that doesn’t even have a door separating it from where I am. And still I feel like somebody is cutting me into pieces with a rusty chainsaw. “Work” mostly consists of staring at the screen and trying not to cry.
Daycare, yeah, right. It will take me at least another year to get ready for daycare. And I don’t think anything better than that can be expected from somebody with my history.

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