When I was pregnant with my daughter, I read tons of parenting books. Every single one of them mentioned meltdowns and tantrums, but still, I wasn't ready. I mean, can you ever be ready for the day a nonverbal, 20-pound human tries to destroy your sanity? The first time it happened to me, I was on public transportation in Philadelphia. At the time, Ayva was 8 months old and couldn't care less about the packed bus, the gawking passengers (including the old ladies trying to give me tips on calming her down) or the sweat that was dripping down my face as I tried desperately to hold her as she kicked and flailed all her limbs for nearly half an hour. Finally, at the height of my desperation, I whipped out my boob on the crowded bus, and there was peace. As Ayva sweetly nursed, I looked at my baby girl and wondered if maybe I had imagined the entire thing.
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