Aunt Taylor, you’re my real mom. Wyatt’s words echoed in the kitchen, innocent and devastating all at once. Taylor Swift froze, the plate of cookies she’d been arranging nearly slipping from her hands. She turned to look at the six-year-old girl sitting at the kitchen island, blonde pigtails slightly messy from playing outside, her big brown eyes looking up at Taylor with absolute certainty.

 “What, sweetie?” Taylor asked carefully, setting the plate down, her heart suddenly pounding. You’re my real mom,” Wyatt repeated like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Mommy is always busy with the babies, but you play games with me. You brush my hair. You listen to my stories. You’re my real mom.” Taylor felt tears prick her eyes.

This was wrong. This was so wrong. Wyatt honey, I’m your aunt, but I love you like a mom. And that’s when Kylie Kelsey walked into the kitchen, arms full of grocery bags and heard every word her daughter just said. The bags hit the floor with a thud. Oranges rolled across the tile.

 A jar of something shattered, but Kylie didn’t notice. She was staring at her daughter, her face drained of color, her expression caught somewhere between heartbreak and shock. Wyatt. Kylie’s voice came out strangled. What did you just say? why it turned to her mother, oblivious to the devastation she just caused.

 I was telling Aunt Taylor that she’s my real mom. Because she is, mommy. She takes care of me better than you do. Taylor watched Kylie’s face crumble, watched her mouth open and close like she was trying to find words, but couldn’t. Taylor wanted to say something, anything to fix this moment. But what could she say? Wyatt Ray Kelsey, Kylie said, her voice shaking.

That is not true and you know it. It is true, Wyatt insisted with the stubborn certainty only a six-year-old could have. You’re always with Elliot and Bennett. You never have time for me anymore. But Aunt Taylor always has time. She picks me up from school when you can’t. She helps me with my homework.

 She reads me bedtime stories when I sleep over. She’s more like a mom than you are. Kylie’s hand went to her mouth and Taylor saw tears spilling down her sister-in-law’s cheeks. Wyatt, that’s not fair. Taylor said gently, finding her voice. Your mom loves you very much. She’s just been busy because your brother and sister are still babies.

 They need a lot of attention right now. Then she should have thought about that before having more babies. Wyatt said, her own voice rising. I didn’t ask for siblings. I was happy when it was just me. Wyatt. Kylie snapped then immediately looked like she regretted the sharp tone. Go to your room. No. No. You’re just mad because I told the truth room now.

 Wyatt slid off the kitchen stool, her eyes filling with tears. See, you’re always mean to me. Aunt Taylor is never mean. She ran from the kitchen, her footsteps pounding up the stairs and a door slammed overhead. The silence that followed was excruciating. Kylie bent down and started picking up the scattered groceries, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold anything.

 Taylor immediately knelt to help her. Kylie, I’m so sorry. Don’t. Kylie’s voice was tight. Please don’t apologize for something that’s my fault. It’s not your fault, isn’t it? Kylie looked up at her and Taylor had never seen her look so broken. My six-year-old daughter just told me to my face that you’re more of a mother to her than I am.

 How is that not my fault? Kylie, you have three kids under seven. You’re exhausted. anyone would be. But I’m not anyone. I’m her mother. Her actual mother. And somehow I failed so spectacularly that she prefers you over me. Taylor didn’t know what to say because part of what Wyatt said was true. And they both knew it.

 Over the past year, as Kylie juggled two babies, Taylor had stepped in more and more with Wyatt, picking her up from school, helping with homework, taking her to dance class, having her for sleepovers when Kylie was overwhelmed. Taylor had told herself she was helping, being a good aunt, giving Kylie a break. But she’d also loved it.

 Loved having Wyatt around. Loved being the person Wyatt ran to with exciting news. Loved brushing her hair and reading her stories and teaching her songs on the piano. Had she accidentally taken Kylie’s place? I’ll pull back, Taylor said quietly. I’ll create some distance. I didn’t realize I was.

 You weren’t doing anything wrong, Kylie said, standing up with arms full of groceries. You were being kind. You were helping. This is on me. I’m the one who let my daughter feel neglected enough that she started looking for a replacement mother. She dumped the groceries on the counter and pressed her palms against the marble, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

 Taylor stood up, uncertain. Should she hug Kylie? Give her space. Leave. Where’s Travis? Kylie asked, wiping her face roughly. At practice, he should be home in an hour. And Jason, he took the babies to his mom’s. Remember, you asked him to give you a few hours alone with Wyatt. Kylie laughed bitterly.

 A few hours alone with Wyatt, and I spent them grocery shopping. Not with her. Shopping? No wonder she thinks you’re her mother. Kylie, stop. It’s true though, isn’t it? Kylie turned to face Taylor. Be honest with me. How often have you been with Wyatt in the past 6 months? Taylor hesitated. I don’t know. A few times a week.

 And how often have I had quality one-on-one time with her? Taylor couldn’t answer that because the truth was she didn’t know. But from what she’d seen, Kylie was always drowning in baby duties. Feeding, changing, comforting, managing nap schedules, dealing with teething and sleep regressions. Wyatt had gotten lost in the shuffle. I’m a terrible mother, Kylie whispered.

 You’re not. You’re an overwhelmed mother. There’s a difference. Is there? Because my daughter can’t tell the difference. Upstairs, they could hear Wyatt crying in her room. Big heaving sobs that broke both their hearts. I should go talk to her, Kylie said, but she didn’t move. Do you want me to? Taylor offered. No.

Kylie’s voice was firm. No, I need to I need to be her mother, even if she doesn’t want me to be. Kylie headed for the stairs, but paused at the doorway. Taylor, thank you for loving her for being there for her. I know I haven’t said it enough, but thank you, even if it hurts to admit that she needed you because I wasn’t enough.

 You are enough, Kylie. You’re her mom. No one can replace that. Kylie nodded but didn’t look convinced. She went upstairs and Taylor heard the soft knock on Wyatt’s door. Heard Kylie’s gentle voice asking to come in. Heard Wyatt’s tearful go away. Taylor started cleaning up the broken jar, the spilled groceries giving them privacy.

 But she could hear everything through the old house’s thin walls. Wyatt baby, please let me in. No, you’re mad at me. I’m not mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sad. There’s a difference. A pause. Then the door opened. Why are you sad? Because you think I don’t love you. And that breaks my heart, Wyatt. It really does. You don’t act like you love me.

 You only love the babies. Taylor heard Kylie’s voice crack. That’s not true, baby. I love you so much. More than you can possibly understand, but I know I haven’t been showing it well lately. And I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. You’re always tired and busy. And when I want to play, you say not now or ask daddy or maybe later.

 But Aunt Taylor never says that. She always wants to play with me. I know. And that’s because Aunt Taylor doesn’t have three kids. She doesn’t have babies who need to be fed every 3 hours or changed every hour or rocked to sleep for 45 minutes. She gets to be the fun aunt because she’s not responsible for keeping two tiny humans alive.

 So, it’s the baby’s fault. No, baby. It’s nobody’s fault. It’s just hard. Being a mom to three kids is really, really hard. And I’ve been so focused on your brother and sister because they can’t do anything for themselves yet. They can’t feed themselves or put themselves to bed or play by themselves. But you can.

You’re such a big independent girl. And so I I left you to be independent. And I didn’t realize how much that was hurting you. I don’t want to be independent. I want my mommy. Taylor heard Kylie break down completely. You have me, baby. You have always had me. I’m right here. I’m always here. But you’re not.

 You’re with them. Then I’ll change. I’ll find a way to give you more time. I promise. Because Wyatt, you’re my first baby. You made me a mother. Before Elliot, before Bennett, there was you. And you will always, always be my special girl. But Aunt Taylor, Aunt Taylor is wonderful. And I’m so grateful she loves you and spends time with you.

 But baby, she’s not your mom. I am. And I know I haven’t been the best mom lately, but I’m going to try harder. Can you give me a chance to try harder? There was a long pause then. Okay. Okay. But mommy, can I still see Aunt Taylor sometimes? Of course you can, baby. She’s your aunt. She loves you.

 But maybe we need to find a better balance where you spend more time with me and just some time with Aunt Taylor. Does that sound fair? I guess. Come here, baby girl. Let mommy hold you. Taylor heard the sounds of hugging, of crying, of healing beginning. She quietly finished cleaning the kitchen and then slipped out the front door, texting Travis that she was heading home and that Kylie and Wyatt needed some family time.

 When Travis got home an hour later, he found Taylor on their couch staring at the wall. Hey, I got your text. What happened? Taylor told him everything. Wyatt’s words. Kylie’s breakdown. The overheard conversation upstairs. Travis sat down heavily beside her. Damn. I didn’t mean to step on Kylie’s toes. I was just trying to help. I know you were, and Kylie knows that, too. This isn’t your fault, Taylor.

 Then why do I feel so guilty? Because you have a good heart. But Taylor, Wyatt said those things because Kylie’s been stretched too thin. That’s not on you. That’s just the reality of having three little kids. But maybe I should have recognized it sooner. Maybe I should have encouraged Wyatt to spend more time with her mom instead of always being so available.

 Or maybe you were exactly what Wyatt needed during a really hard time for her. You gave her attention and love when her mom was drowning. That’s not wrong, Taylor. That’s being a good aunt. But I don’t want to be her mom. I don’t want to replace Kylie. You’re not replacing anyone. You’re just loving a kid who needed extra love.

 That’s beautiful, not wrong. Taylor leaned into Travis’s side. I need to pull back, though. Kylie needs to rebuild her relationship with Wyatt, and I need to let her. Agreed. But Taylor, don’t disappear completely. Wyatt needs you, too. just in a different way as her aunt, not her replacement mom. Two weeks later, Kylie called Taylor and asked if they could talk.

 They met at a coffee shop, both nervous, both unsure how to start. “I owe you an apology,” Kylie said first. “You don’t. I do. I made you feel guilty for loving my daughter.” “And that was wrong of me, Taylor. You didn’t do anything wrong. You filled a gap that I left. And instead of being grateful, I was jealous and hurt and I took it out on you. Kylie, I understand.

No, let me finish. I’ve been seeing a therapist. Postpartum depression, apparently. Pretty severe. I’ve been struggling for months and didn’t even realize it. I was just surviving, you know, getting through each day. And Wyatt got lost in that. But that’s my issue to fix, not yours to feel bad about. How is Wyatt doing? Better.

 We’ve been doing mommy and Wyatt time every day. Just us. No babies, no distractions. And it’s helping. She’s starting to come back to me. Starting to trust that I’m still her mom. I’m so glad. But Taylor, she still asks about you. Still wants to see you because even though I’m her mom, you’re important to her, too.

 You’re her aunt Taylor, and I don’t want to take that away from her. I just want to make sure she knows who her mother is. What do you need from me? Maybe just some boundaries. Like, can we have a schedule? Where Wyatt knows she’ll see you on certain days, but other days are family days. So, she’s not choosing between us. She’s just getting both of us in appropriate doses.

Of course. Whatever you need, Kylie. I never want to come between you and Wyatt. Never. I know. And I’m sorry I made it seem like you were. You’ve been nothing but wonderful to my daughter, to all my kids. I just needed to figure out how to be wonderful to them, too. They set up a schedule.

 Taylor would have Wyatt for a few hours every Saturday. The rest of the time, Wyatt would be with her family. It worked. Slowly but surely, the balance returned. And the next time Wyatt called Taylor mom by accident, she immediately corrected herself. I mean, Aunt Taylor. Sorry. It’s okay, Bug. Taylor said, brushing Wyatt’s hair back.

 But you know who your mom is, right? Yeah, mommy is my mom and you’re my aunt Taylor. I love you both. Just different. Just different. Taylor agreed. And that’s exactly right. 3 months later, Kylie sent Taylor a photo. It was Wyatt holding a Mother’s Day card she’d made at school. On the front in crayon, “My mom is the best.

” The text below the photo read, “Thank you for loving her and for giving her back to me.” Taylor cried. Happy tears this time. Because sometimes love meant stepping back and sometimes being an aunt meant knowing when to let mom be mom. If this story touched you, hit that like button and share your thoughts in the comments.

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