My 7-Year-Old Drew a Picture of My Husband with Another Woman and Wrote, ‘I Can’t Wait for You to Be My Mom’
Amber, a dedicated mother and corporate lawyer, is devastated when she finds a sketch made by her 7-year-old daughter, Mia. With a devastating caption, the photo has Mia’s instructor in Amber’s place. When Amber confronts her husband, Jack, out of suspicion of infidelity, she discovers something more profound: Mia’s sense of desertion amid Amber’s hectic life.
I didn’t anticipate being here, but lately, this is how life has been.
My name is Amber, I am thirty-four years old, married to Jack for ten years, and the mother of my seven-year-old daughter, Mia. Since I’m a corporate lawyer, I can honestly say that I’ve never been busier in my life than I am right now.
Over the past year, my mom’s health has been deteriorating, and we’ve been spending a lot of money on her hospital visits, therapy sessions, and medication—all of which cost far more than I’d want to acknowledge.
I would do everything for my mother, so I’ve been working crazy hours to pay for everything.
Anything.
I couldn’t have asked for a better rock and partner than Jack. He has taken on roles at home that I never would have thought possible. Jack has taken over all of the small tasks that I used to do, like cooking, cleaning, and helping Mia with her academics.
Even though I felt like I was drowning, he enabled me to keep everything afloat.
But before I could even recover my breath, everything changed last night.
I arrived home late, hungry, tired, and on the verge of passing out. I put my small girl to bed after quickly eating a dish of salmon and rice while Mia had a bath. Mia muttered something about puppets as she fell asleep.
“I didn’t know that you could put your hand in a socket and it would be a puppet,” she stated.
I said, “A sock, my darling,”. “No socket! Mia, you should never put your hand in a socket.
She laughed.
“Okay, Momma,” she yawned and said.
After beginning to clean up her dolls, which were strewn all over her room’s carpet, I moved to the living room’s coffee table. There were coloring books, crayons, and white paper everywhere.
I discovered it at that point. A sketch.
It looked harmless enough at first. A child’s drawing of a contented family. A young girl, a woman, and a man are holding hands. But my stomach wrenched as I took a closer look.
That man was definitely Jack. It was obvious that the young girl was Mia. The woman, though? Not me, of course.
She donned a flowing bridal gown and had beautiful brown hair. The heartbreaking words were written in Mia’s tiny handwriting beneath the drawing:
I am very excited for you to become my mother!
I had the impression that the ground had collapsed beneath me.
In an attempt to rouse Mia sufficiently to obtain answers, I carried the photo to her bed and sat on the side.
“Darling girl, can you tell me about this drawing?” Calmly, I asked her.
She asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes, “What drawing, Momma?”
Mia’s cheeks flushed when she saw the sketch, and she grabbed the paper from me and held it to her chest.
“That wasn’t meant for you to find! “It’s better to hide it,” remarked Daddy. She spoke without thinking.
Better to hide it? Jack? What’s better to hide?
My heart began to race. What was happening? Was Jack unfaithful? Even worse, did Mia already see this other lady as her mother?
That night, I hardly slept at all. My thoughts were racing through my head. I reflected on my marriage, my mother, and the tasks I still had to complete before going to the office the following day.
I had experienced a flurry of worst-case possibilities by dawn. I waited for Jack to get ready for work as I sat in the kitchen. Mia was on her way to school already.
“What is this?” I pushed the sketch into his hands and requested.
His face went white, and his eyes grew wide.
“You told her to hide it?” I inquired. “You actually told Mia to hide it?”
He stumbled, “Wait, wait,” and raised his palms defensively. “Amber, it’s not what you believe. Let me tell you everything.
“Jack, you have precisely five seconds. All night long, I’ve been going insane.”
Clearly upset, my husband combed through his hair.
“Come with me,” he commanded.
“What? Where are we heading? How about the job? I inquired.
Our destination is Mia’s school. “I have something to show you,” he said.
Something in his voice, an eagerness that didn’t seem like guilt, made me comply even though I wanted to yell at him.
My thoughts was still racing during the quiet and stressful journey to school. At Mia’s school, what would Jack teach me that would make a difference? Was there a fictitious stepmother or friend waiting for us?
Jack squeezed my knee when we got to the school. He squeezed my hand as we made our way to the reception area and requested to see Clara, Mia’s teacher.
I felt like I had been hit in the stomach the moment Clara entered. She was so beautiful that I couldn’t recall why I had never met her before. She had a radiant grin, beautiful brown hair, and a naturally vivacious manner.
It was obvious that she was the woman from Mia’s drawing.
I wanted to scream when she smiled at Jack.
“Clara,” said Jack. “Can you explain to my wife what’s been happening with Mia?”
Clara looked at me and her face changed to one of bewilderment before softening.
“Oh, of course,” the woman replied.
She motioned for us to have a seat in the small room next to the reception area.
“Look, Mia’s been having a tough time lately,” she said. She has expressed that she feels her mother no longer has time for her. Despite my attempts to comfort her, she’s just seven years old. In order to process her emotions, she has been creating a lot of drawings.
My heart fell as I looked over the stack of drawings that Clara had given me.
Variations on the same topic were prevalent. Clara is in my place, and the family is pleased. Additional words that I hadn’t spotted the first time were on the back of one of the drawings:
Clara and Daddy.
“So, you’ve been spending time with my daughter?” Unable to conceal the sharpness in my voice, I questioned.
She replied, “Yes, of course,” But just in class—after all, I am her instructor. She occasionally stays after class to assist me with cleaning up. She told me that due of your constant busyness, she feels as though she is losing her mother. If I went too far, I sincerely apologize. I would never want to get involved.
Tight in the chest, I turned to Jack.
“How about you? How did you explain this to her?
Jack had a dejected expression.
“I discovered that image last week,” he acknowledged. “I told Mia that you love her more than everything, but it wasn’t true. However, I was unsure of how to respond to it. I didn’t want to add to your already high level of stress by bringing it up. I knew it would hurt you, so I told her to put the drawing away.
The words “You should have told me, Jack,” I murmured quietly.
To be honest, I had no idea what to think.
With remorse in his eyes, Jack nodded.
He uttered, “I know, love,” “I thought I was protecting you, but I see now that I just made it worse.”
My rage started to fade and was replaced by a wave of shame that was so strong it almost had me fall off my chair. This has nothing to do with Clara going too far or Jack cheating. It concerned my daughter, her grief, her perplexity, and how she dealt with my absence.
Mia and I sat down at the kitchen table that evening. In the hopes that we would bond, I had prepared bowls of ice cream with all the toppings.
Softly, “Sweetheart,” I said. “I have something to tell you. I apologize sincerely for not being around more recently. I still want to be with you even if Grandma requires a lot of support right now. Sweet sweetheart, you are everything to me.
Mia put her arms around me as tears welled up in her eyes.
She said, “I thought maybe you didn’t like me anymore,”
My heart broke.
I held her close as I murmured, “I love you more than anything,” “Nothing will ever change that.”
I changed a few aspects of my lifestyle in the weeks that followed.
I requested my siblings to help out more with our mom’s care and reduced my working hours. Every week, Jack and I established a “Mom and Mia” night when we were the only two doing anything she wanted.
Sometimes it was simply us getting dressed up and going on a date, other times it was building a fort, baking cookies, or having a movie night.
I also had a deep conversation with Clara to express my gratitude for being a fantastic teacher and supporting Mia when I was unable to.
I informed her that Mia’s paintings weren’t her responsibility, but she apologized once more for any boundaries she might have breached.
She said, “I just feel bad, Amber,” while wiping paintbrushes.
“I know, but you really shouldn’t, Clara,” I replied. “You gave Mia a sense of security and reaffirmed your love and concern for her. I will always be grateful for that.”
Although it’s far better, life isn’t flawless. I’m becoming better at asking for assistance and letting Mia know that she comes first. I now make sure to sit directly next to her whenever she picks up her crayons.
