a means to an end

My friends all tell me stories. They go like this:

"Ya know, so-and-so got pregnant and she was really freaking out at first..." These stories all end the same way: "Now, she has a beautiful little boy." "She has the sweetest little girl."
The children in these tales are never colicky with pointy heads and hair in the wrong places. They are always charming and attractive, as if that is the end of the story.

What does she do with her beautiful little boy? I want to ask. How has she integrated that sweet little girl into her life, and how bad are the stretch marks?

Maybe when I hold my baby for the first time, I will know. Maybe I am a foolish, selfish girl with stubborn dreams and an aversion to steroid creams.