In the weeks after my first child was born, I remember staring up through bloodshot, envious eyes at my sister-in-law, Leah Guzman, while clutching my tiny new human to my chest. She was thriving as an artist and a mother of two, and from my tired, unshowered, spit up-covered place on the couch, it appeared that her breed of quiet confidence had been instilled at birth, emitting not even a hiccup as she crossed the threshold of motherhood. Turns out I was wrong.