Our two cats knew I was pregnant even before I did. They spent the duration of my son’s gestation nesting with me. There was nowhere I could go in the house where they wouldn’t try to follow. It was sweet, like they were protecting my son. It did get annoying toward the end, because I could barely see my feet, let alone them. My main concern was not no fall, and the constant tailing (no pun intended) was making that difficult.

While we were still in the hospital, my husband brought home one of my son’s hats so they could get used to his smell. It was a pretty positive sign when one of them sat right on it, as if to lay claim to it as her own. We took this as a good sign.

When we came home with our son a few days later, the cats weren’t sure what to make of him. His cries were frightening, he took up all of our attention and our previously established routines were pretty much destroyed.

The cats would go off to the most remote parts of the house and howl. After spending the last three days in a sleep deprived state, hearing various other newborns crying in the night, the mind begins to play tricks on you. The sounds of distressed kitties mewing sounds remarkably like a crying baby. It would be nearly a week before the hallucination would subside.

Eventually, the cats came around to having a new baby in the house. Although they still haven’t quite figured him out, their anxiety seems to have subsided. There isn’t complete orderliness in the universe, but we’re getting there.