The idea that I might call someone a good friend and not know all her siblings' names, her college major or her natural hair color seemed preposterous. But then I became a mom, and those details were overshadowed by information that relates either directly or indirectly to people's kids
To say I struggled with nursing my son is an understatement. It was a battle I faced every couple of hours. There were tears and frustrations on both of our ends. I blamed it on a lot of external things: tongue tie, nipple shape, extra milk supply. It was so easy for me to externally justify why this breastfeeding thing was so challenging for me.
I realized that, for better or worse, joking about being a wine mom is a palatable
code for saying "this is hard." That feeling is one just about every parent experiences, often on a
daily basis—but it can still be hard to admit, lest we be accused of not appreciating
motherhood enough.
