What Mother’s Day means to three new moms.

Kathryn Hud­son strug­gles with the new pri­or­i­ties that come with start­ing a fam­ily.

ELLE (Canada) - - Insider -

when I found out I was preg­nant, I was wear­ing a sweat­shirt that had “This is the end” let­tered across the chest. I stum­bled out of the bath­room, preg­nancy test wink­ing its pos­i­tive re­sults ac­cus­ingly in my hand. My hus­band took one look at my ex­pres­sion and dis­solved into a messy state that fell some­where be­tween giddy and fuck­ing de­lighted.

I cried for two hours, mum­bling that they were tears of joy, although I’m pretty sure those don’t present in jagged, hack­ing sobs. I still don’t quite un­der­stand my re­ac­tion. Af­ter all, I’d wanted a baby, and I’m not in­no­cent enough to mis­un­der­stand the ways in which we’d been try­ing for one.

It just sud­denly felt like I was star­ing to­ward, well, the end. The end of the ca­reer to which I’d lashed my heart years ago. The end of the care­less, avant-garde life I might have wanted. The end of free­dom.

I tried to rally, telling my­self that, th­ese days, preg­nancy might be one of the best things that can hap­pen to your ca­reer. Es­pe­cially if you’re Bey­oncé, who pre­sented her bump to the world like Simba on a clifftop. Or Blake Lively, who had an elab­o­rate shower mere days af­ter an­nounc­ing her preg­nancy seem­ingly just to pop­u­late her life­style web­site with breezy back­lit pic­tures. Or Coco Rocha, who, to share her news, posted an Instagram video of her leo­tard-clad body spin­ning slowly on a plat­form.

The rav­en­ous cul­tural fas­ci­na­tion with celebri­ties and their bod­ies seems pow­er­ful enough to get even the limpest Hol­ly­wood ca­reer h

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