Spent the past few days hanging out with a very old and dear friend. She’s on maternity leave with number two and stranded at home and bored out of her mind. I didn’t bother with a hotel–just stayed with her and experienced this whole baby business up close, driving back and forth from daycare, watching her nurse every three hours, smelled for stinky diapers and played with the older one.
I was hoping I’d either be magically inspired or totally turned off. Neither happened. There was a part of me that found it very natural, and there was a part of me thinking how drastically different of a lifestyle it was. There was no hormonal gush in my uterus or maternal certainty that this was what I wanted.
“You’re really good with kids. You’ll be a great mom,” she observed.
The friend has a bunch of letters after her name having spent most of her adult life in higher education and specializes in child psychiatry.