Photo Courtesy Of Alli Kushner“Hi Mom, what’s the DOB?” chirps the receptionist at my pediatrician’s office for the thousandth time this year. By the time you’re in labor, you’re just “Mama” to an entire floor of strangers. Now I’m just “Mama,” the anonymous vessel who’s expected to push a human out while everyone watches. If I crack and scream, “MY NAME IS ALLI!” they’ll know I’m not mom material after all. Are you expecting her too?” Maybe I even pretend to call my own mother: “Hey, Mom, the receptionist says you’re here?
