Speaking with a new mom I met in our building, who has a son around Nora’s age, I mention that as much as I’m completely in love with my daughter, I’ve definitely had some bumps along the way in adjusting to motherhood.
Her: “Ugh, I’m so sorry you’ve had to deal with postpartum depression.”
Me: “Oh, you’re very sweet and I appreciate that so much, but I actually, very fortunately, have NOT had to deal with postpartum depression.”
Her: “Oh, my bad! I just thought from what you were saying…it sounded like a postpartum depression type thing.”
Me: “Oh, no. I actually was very nervous I’d have postpartum depression because I’m definitely at risk. But surprisingly I didn’t. What I’m talking about is just like normal parenthood transition stuff, you know?”
Me: “Maybe you DON’T know…”
Her: “I don’t know, I guess I just haven’t found the transition difficult at all. It’s really only brought me joy.”
Me: “Wow, that’s awesome. You’ve really never been totally overwhelmed? Or anxious about the huge responsibility of raising a human? Or even just like ‘AHHHH I miss my old life!?'”
Her: “Honestly, no. I love every second of it. Is that weird?”
Me: “I mean no, it’s amazing! Good for you. ENJOY IT!”
You lying cunt.