How could a mother part with the hospital newborn cap—the one that, if you squeeze your eyes shut and sniff really deeply, still smells a little like fresh baby?
You can feel their spoken and unspoken judgments, and it's really putting you on edge, but you don't want to have uncomfortable conversations or tension. So what do you do, mama?
I was up late (again) when I should have been sleeping. I was catching up on work when I should have been taking time for myself. I was looking at Instagram when I should have been folding laundry. I was holding my baby while she napped when I should have been cleaning up.
"I literally think there's no world where I would always feel like I bond with her enough and was not shortchanging time with her," Kaling told the Hollywood Reporter.
I remember her, so tiny and beautiful, sweet and new. And I remember me, innocent and hopeful, exhausted and adrift. Something changed in me the day she was born, but I didn't know that yet.
Of course I remember some things—where I lived, what I did most days, what I hoped for in motherhood. But I cannot remember what it FEELS like to be me-before-kids.
But, little by little I started remembering why I founded my business in the first place. I remembered how wonderful my clients were and how satisfying it felt to use the intellectual part of my brain.
Because of multitasking we can cook dinner while unloading the dishwasher, settling an argument and finally texting our friend back. (We might be three days late on that text, but look—we remembered! See? Our brains are fine.)
