Four years ago I walked into the bathroom, hand clenched around a white cellophane-wrapped stick. Three minutes later the bathroom door opened, and my face was white. In a tiny centimetered window no bigger than my fingernail a faint line slowly emerged, then solidified. It was the face of another human being—one I had not asked for. Surely my life was over.
I'm the mom of a surprise child. I was a surprise myself. Not all surprises are bad!
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