The first question I was asked was, “What would your friends say you’re good at?” Maybe it was the hour before and trying to triage the feelings stirred up by things my oldest said to me. Maybe it was the anticipation of what my middle was going to say to me in the next 45 minutes. Maybe it was the funeral I was going to after therapy. Regardless, I came up empty and my eyes began brimming with tears. The few things I thought of somehow felt invalid and I didn’t have the courage to say them out loud. I asked Dr. B if I could take a pass on that question and she nodded and quickly moved on. Then I was hit with a truckload of self-blame and shame for the example I was setting for my kid. What kind of mother does this? Dr. B handled it/me gracefully and acknowledged that I had a lot on my mind that had zero to do with my daughter in that moment. I was thankful for that. But the question is still nagging at me.