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Time is running out1 for my friend. While we are sitting at lunch she casually mentions she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. Were taking a survey,she says, half-joking. Do you think I should have a baby? It will change your life, I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral2. I know,she says, no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous3 holidays... But thats not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional4 wound so raw5 that she will be vulnerable6 forever. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without thinking: What if that had been MY child? That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully manicured7 nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated8 she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive9 level of a bear protecting her cub10. I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed11 by motherhood. She might arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting, and she will think her babys sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline12 to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is all right. | 
