You won’t be a good mother. Not if by a good mother, you mean what I meant.

It is possible to take optimism too far. It wasn’t until I had my third baby that I really let go of the hope that I could one day figure it all out and become a perfect mother. Don’t get me wrong: I knew I wasn’t there yet. I messed up every day. But right up until I brought that third delightful bundle of possibilities home, I kept stubbornly believing that perfection was possible, and if I read enough parenting books and tried really hard, every second of every day, I would eventually master the feedings, the bedtimes, the teaching, the discipline and - voila! - produce well-adjusted, intelligent children who would never grow up to say, “My life would be better if only my mom had done X - or hadn’t done Y.”