Motherhood breaks down every illusion of control you thought you had. You can dress your baby in something cute. You can pack the bag. You can line up the car seat and the blanket and the carefully written questions for the pediatrician. But then, three steps out the door, your two-week-old can throw up all over both of you, and suddenly your best-laid plans are dripping down your shirt. I stood there on the stairs that morning, baby wrapped against me, outfit ruined, chest soaked. It was her very first doctor’s visit, and I was twenty minutes behind before we…
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There’s a moment in motherhood when you finally exhale. Not because the laundry’s done (it never is), or because dinner didn’t end in tears (yours or theirs). But because your baby — your sweet, confusing, sleep-fighting baby — has been sleeping through the night. Not once. Not by accident. But for real. A few nights turns into a week. Then a month. But then, just as the ground feels solid again – 3:00 AM. A blood-curdling scream. Out of nowhere.