I have no maternal intuition. I never know if I'm pregnant until I've taken a test. I don't know if the baby is a boy or a girl or quadruplets. I don't know if it will be born early or late. I don't dream about what it will look like (I do dream, but my dreams are never right, which is good since they're usually horrible). When I'm nursing, the dairy is all business. No problems arise from the sound, smell, sight, or thought of the baby. Too long of a break is the only factor for a bosom so cold as mine.
Worse, I don't trust myself to do any of those heroic things mothers do in horrible situations. If a refrigerator fell on one of my kids, my adrenal glands wouldn't swoop to the rescue so I could lift it. I would stand there with my mouth open and my brain frozen. If a truck came barreling down our street into our yard, I would probably automatically curl myself up into a ball and never even think about protecting the kids. They would just get flattened.
I am hopelessly self-serving and self-preserving. Four kids into this and all that nurturing I hear so much about still hasn't kicked in.