Childbirth is like being jumped into a gang. You are all beat up. You don’t walk right for weeks. Your speech is slurred. Your body will never be the same.You cannot believe all the blood. You need stitches after. But you are forever a part of La Familia. You dress differently. You wear sweats as much as possible.

Los Angeles women believe in the myth that you can escape this via the early scheduled c-section. Not so much. C-sections suck. They take your internal organs out of your body, set them on the table, rip the baby out of your uterus. It’s like being shanked in your nether regions or your abs. Both are bad.

Mommy gang life is good sometimes. Women you don’t know suddenly appear like guardian angels to help you. I was at the Americana in Glendale with 2 month old Axel in the ERGO baby carrier and 2 1/2 year old Lulu. Lulu was having one of her non-stop, louder than 11, putting Faye Dunaway in Mommy Dearest to shame, tantrums. I was in the parking lot without a stroller. She refused to walk to the car. Lulu started running full speed toward oncoming cars. I scooped her up out of harm’s way. Lulu was kicking and screaming. I was carrying both her and Axel. We were all crying. This woman in Abercrombie sweats appeared. Clearly a mommy taking her alone time shopping at the Americana.  She looks at me. “Let me help you. I’ll take the baby . Where is your car?” I hand Abercrombie sweat pants my new baby. I am carrying screaming Faye Dunaway. We walk to my car. Abercrombie mommy waits for me to buckle Lulu into her car seat. Then she hands me Axel. OMG. Seriously? I say, “Thank you.”  She says, “I’m a Mom. I get it.” WHOA. Familia.