…say we had guests. It’s my mom.”
I was still hooked up to the pump, totally exposed and caught off guard. His mom? She hadn’t even told us she was coming.
I heard her voice drifting up the stairs, loud and cheerful. “Where’s my grandbaby?”
I scrambled to unhook, grab a robe, and cover up. Meanwhile, my husband stood there, holding the baby like a human shield, visibly annoyed.
“She just showed up,” he whispered. “Didn’t even knock—she brought a casserole and said she was staying the weekend.”
I blinked. “She’s what?”
At that moment, she appeared at our bedroom door, arms wide open like this was some reunion scene in a movie.
No text. No call. No warning.
And just like that, my living room was full of suitcases, baby talk, and unsolicited parenting advice.
Lesson learned: never ignore the doorbell… and always expect the unexpected when you’re postpartum.
