Анджела Гарбс (Angela Garbes)ANGELA
GARBES
ЛКЕа
MOIHER Feminist Journey through the SCIENCE and CULTURE of PREGNANCY
PREGNANCYthrough the SCIENCE and CULTURE of
Feminist Journey
MOlHER
1KEa
GARBES
ANGELA
An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
HARPER WAVE
ANGELA GARBES
OF PREGNANCY
THROUGH THE SCIENCE AND CULTURE
A FEMINIST JOURNEY
MOTHER
A
LIKE
Dedication
For Mom and Noli Jo, who made me
Epigraph
“Nothing is more tenacious than the life we are made of.
”
—Octavia Butler
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Introduction
Part I: One of You
Chapter 1: Now What?
Chapter 2: Imperfect Choices
Chapter 3: An Organ as Two-Faced as Time
Chapter 4: Before I Had a Baby, I Had a Miscarriage
Part II: Two of You
Chapter 5: The Best-Laid Plans
Chapter 6: Take Care
Chapter 7: Mother’s Milk
Part III: A New You
Chapter 8: What This Body Means
Chapter 9: The Seat of Power
Chapter 10: Unfolding
Acknowledgments
Notes
About the Author
Copyright
About the Publisher
Introduction
The moment I found out I was pregnant, I was hungover. While epic evenings of drinking were mostly behind me (after I hit thirty, my hangovers had morphed into cruel, multiday affairs), the previous night had been a rare, fun exception. I was sleeping it off, my heavy breathing interrupted by the ring of my cell phone.
The night before, my husband and I had martinis at our house before heading to our favorite neighborhood restaurant for a pizza with anchovies and pickled peppers. I’d lost a pregnancy a couple of months prior, and a big part of our grieving process had been to give ourselves a break from focusing on anything baby-related. So, embracing our ability to act spontaneously, we ended up having a big night out like the ones we used to have when we were first getting to know each other and falling in love. Conversation, laughter, and affection (also cocktails and wine) flowed in the familiar, easy way that they had not in the weeks following my miscarriage. After dinner, we decided not to go home. We went to a
’90s R & B night at a club; I drank tequila and danced to Mariah
Carey.
When my doctor called with the news the next morning, it felt as though my barely conscious brain had been jolted awake. During the months after my miscarriage, my period had not returned (and, let’s be honest, we weren’t having much sex anyway), so the possibility of pregnancy wasn’t on my radar. When I saw the number on my phone screen, I scrambled out of bed and tried to pull myself together, as though he might actually be able to see me over the phone. I was in no condition for this.