Motherhood was the farthest thing from the lives we were living but still out there waiting for us, the great “eventually,” the great “inevitably.” Of course we had more important things to do first, or that was the party line. We had our careers. Was it a defensive act, our busy-ness? All those photos of how full and rich and happy our lives were, as if to say, See, we’re fine without children. Quick, someone plan a dinner party or a weekend upstate before we start squinting at our boyfriends, wondering if they’d meet us halfway.
