We Don’t Talk About That

It was the biggest meeting of Lucinda’s career. Not that it had been a long career. It did seem hyperbolic. That’s the word Lucinda used to describe it. She was in her late 20s, had married, and given birth to a child. She was offered a principal position at her firm before she knew she was pregnant. She accepted the offer hastily and then a day letter submitted paperwork for maternity leave. She knew by the time she came back, she’d see her family name on business cards, letterheads, email signatures, the website, social media, and the building directory. 

There was always business to do. Even when she was raising a newborn, someone still had to run the company. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust the other partners. It was more a fear of missing out. 

So she joined meetings virtually. She bounced the baby while delivering guidance for the end of the fiscal year. She sat in on pitches. She even hired a new project manager while changing a diaper. 

Some parts of motherhood are instinctual. There’s a gut feeling mothers have when their baby is hungry. Or sleepy. Or gassy. It’s a gut feeling. Or the baby cries. That works, too. So when Lucinda’s baby started crying in a virtual meeting. She did what she always had done: she worked through all the possible issues until the baby was calm again.

That was the day she exposed her breast to feed the baby on a webcam. She never even realized what she had done. And no one said anything about it ever again. Titilating.