…say we had guests. It’s my mom.”

I was still hooked up to the pump, totally exposed and caught off guard. His mom? She hadn’t even told us she was coming.

I heard her voice drifting up the stairs, loud and cheerful. “Where’s my grandbaby?”

I scrambled to unhook, grab a robe, and cover up. Meanwhile, my husband stood there, holding the baby like a human shield, visibly annoyed.

“She just showed up,” he whispered. “Didn’t even knock—she brought a casserole and said she was staying the weekend.”

I blinked. “She’s what?”

At that moment, she appeared at our bedroom door, arms wide open like this was some reunion scene in a movie.

No text. No call. No warning.

And just like that, my living room was full of suitcases, baby talk, and unsolicited parenting advice.

Lesson learned: never ignore the doorbell… and always expect the unexpected when you’re postpartum.