Nobody had warned her about all of the loneliness involved, his early mornings and her militant breastfeeding regimen that first year, the weird noises the kitchen floor made at night when she padded across it in search of ill-advised snacks, the way you stopped diving into bed together and started falling, anticlimactically, into unattractive REM sleep where you snored or murmured or conversed, mechanically, about the grocery list.
