I was laid out by first-trimester fatigue; I craved citrus; I heard the baby’s heartbeat. I went for lengthy walks with the dog and listened to parenting podcasts, journaled about what sort of mom I’d be. I was surprisingly serene, except for my dangerous goals, which had been removed from subtle.
Do Girls Become Their Mothers? 4 Methods Analysis Claims All Of Us Flip Into Mommy Dearest
