If my husband could, he would breastfeed children up to three years old.

This summer was nostalgic for our family. The summer of 2009 passed in the same way - in household chores and chores. My husband and I walked in the nearest park, sat for hours on a bench in an apple orchard and were happy. In May 2009, our youngest daughter Seraphima was born. I was afraid to leave with the baby even to the dacha, where it took half an hour by car to get to the nearest pharmacy or shop. And to the children's clinic - about forty minutes. In addition, I had a job that required a presence in the city.

I remember exactly that we did not discuss anything with my husband. Everything turned out by itself. And, as time has shown, right. If I was terrified of “missing out on the work process,” I had no idea how I would “sit at home,” then my husband, on the contrary, was going through a crisis at work and was going to quit. He wanted to be at home, to read, to dismantle cabinets with manuscripts and family archives, and not to solve two hundred and fifty work questions a minute. He is tired of colleagues, daily communication, office. I needed a stormy social life.
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- Let me go on maternity leave instead of you, - the husband joked once. I was about six months old.

- Yeah, great idea, - I replied, getting ready for a work meeting, - I don't fit into these jeans already.

In the seventh month, I walked briskly in the park, then went to meetings and in the evening ran to a friend's birthday. There was enough strength for everything. I had time to cook, and clean, and do homework with my eldest son.

I remember very well how my mother, mournfully pursing her lips, asked:

- Are you not going to work for a year now?

She was always afraid that I would become a housewife. Just some kind of panic fear. Now they joke that “the grief of the mother is the son of the barista,” and my mother considered her daughter-housewife a personal grief.
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- Do not worry, instead of me Andrei will go on maternity leave, - I joked.

The jokes ended when my husband's secretary called and asked which cake to order - three chocolates or creme brulee? Which one would my husband like best?

I honestly replied that I had no idea, trying to remember what the cake might be. Pregnancy still affected my memory. The secretary said that then they would order three chocolates, and asked if I would be present at the celebration. At this point I felt completely unwell, because the work would not arrange holidays for an insignificant occasion.

- And what about the holiday? - I asked the secretary. - Sorry, because of pregnancy, I do not remember myself.

- How? Andrey Vladimirovich submitted an application. We accompany him on maternity leave. We decided to arrange a holiday for him. It's such a rarity these days. He's just a hero! An amazing man. All the girls are jealous of you. How lucky you are! - the secretary could hardly hold back tears of emotion.

The "girls" gave my husband a real holiday - with balloons, gifts for a newborn who has not yet been born. Cake and flowers. They walked violently, as if they had not celebrated a single anniversary.