Never tell a mother that her baby looks nothing like her. I don’t care if they look like they’re from different planets. Don’t. Say. It.
I carried Stella in my uterus for nine and a half months then pushed her out of my hoo-ha after 32 hours of agonizing labor. And then there were the feeding troubles I saw her through (more agonizing than labor). I am her MO-THER. She is my BAY-BEE. And even though I know that I shouldn’t care, and even though I know we don’t look very much alike, I do see myself in her, and, well, it’s just rude to say otherwise.
A small handful of people (none of whom are moms, and maybe that explains their cluelessness) have told me that Stella and I look nothing alike. One of these individuals is an old man who tends to hang out on the bench in front of my favorite coffee shop. He said, “Wow, she looks JUST LIKE YOU,” then started laughing hysterically at the ridiculousness of the statement. Classy gentleman.
If anyone asks, or if I’m in earshot, here is what you say,” Wow, Stella and Amber are practically identical! Amber’s got herself a mini-me! HOW ADORABLE.”