Let’s set the scene: It’s 2020. The world is shut down, I just gave birth to my first baby, and I haven’t slept in what feels like 35 years. I’m leaking from places I didn’t know could leak, the baby won’t latch, and the laundry pile has developed sentience. My body feels like it’s been through a war (because…it has), and my hormones are doing the cha-cha with my sanity. Enter: wine. At first, it was a cute little evening ritual. Just a glass – okay, sometimes two – of Pinot Grigio to “take the edge off” after a long day of diaper blowouts, cluster feeding, and existential dread. You…