The Mask
I got pregnant for the first time when I was 21 years old. I was not married, I had no job, and it was clear from the beginning that I was going to be a single parent. As crazy as that might sound, I knew I wanted to have the baby. I knew I could raise this child with love and purpose. I started working and, by the time Luna was six, I had found love again. The second time I became pregnant I was 28; this time, I was beside myself with happiness. We bought a house, got married, and we took our time making a beautiful nursery for Lia. The third time I got pregnant I was 41. I had a good job, a stable family, tons of support, except this time, I was not happy. Everything about my body felt wrong. The year before, I had been hospitalized because of a blood clot in my lung, so now I had to inject daily blood thinners to prevent a reoccurrence during gestation. Being over 40 meant going to a high-risk clinic. I was miserable. I thought about having an abortion, but t
