What happens? Not to the baby. To her. That is the question we rarely ask with enough seriousness. Because when a child is born, the world knows exactly where to look. At the child. We celebrate the baby. But the woman who carried that child enters the conversation strangely diminished. She is suddenly expected to be grateful for what has happened to her. Strong enough for what comes next. Tender enough to enjoy it. Wise enough to know what to do. And happy enough to make everyone else comfortable. Nobody quite says this aloud. That is part of the problem. There are expectations that never need to be spoken because women have been hearing versions of them all their lives. You will know. You will feel it. You will love it. You will adjust. And if something inside you does not follow the script? What then? There is a woman the baby did not give birth to Before she became someone's mother, she was already someone. This sounds obvious until you begin asking what we remember about that ...