*The following article is a long read. It was originally published here.*
I was twenty-three years old when my husband and I finally overcame mild infertility and a history of early miscarriages, and I brought my twelve-pound daughter into the world. The experience was life-altering on such deep levels that I have yet to find a way to discuss it properly in one sitting.
I had had a rough pregnancy. My heart has issues and mimics heart attacks the entire time. I had bleeding, swelling, protein in my urine, and eight and a half months of vomiting at all hours of the day. Labor had started around 36 weeks and was stopped with seven rounds of medication that caused me an allergic reaction.
