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We expect to have good mothers, and to marry, and to be good mothers. The arrival of baby Violet was meant to be the happiest day of my life. I would be different. I would be like other women for whom it all came so easily. I would be everything my own mother was not.
But as soon as I held her in my arms I knew something wasn t right. My husband Fox says I m imagining it. He tells me I m nothing like my own mother, and that Violet is the sweetest child. But she s different with me. Something feels very wrong. Is she the monster? Or am I?