Initially, I was cavalier about motherhood, treating reproduction as an experience to be had — an item to be checked off a bucket list. After two years of trying, pregnancy became an obsession, measured in doctor’s visits, sperm counts and the painful flushing of contrast dye through my fallopian tubes. When the pregnancy tests finally showed two lines— I used up a stockpile— I fanned out the positives in triumph. Hearing my baby’s first heartbe…
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