The realization chilled her. If it wasn’t recorded, and it wasn’t there before, then what was it? A part of her wanted to laugh, to call herself dramatic. But another part whispered darker possibilities, ones she didn’t dare say aloud.
Added to this was her ballooning guilt. Here she was obsessing over a scar. Wasn’t this supposed to be the “best” time of her life? One in which her main task was to bond with her baby? Was she a “bad” mum, not giving enough time to her newborn?