I am sitting in my car, my coat wrapped tightly around me. I am shaking, but my tremors aren’t a result of the cold winter air. In my hands I hold a grainy black and white printed photograph. Small white lines create the edge of a tiny profile, and if I look closely enough, I am able to make out the graceful, faint curve of a spine and what appear to be arms and legs.
I am filled with wonder as I sit there, looking at this snapshot of my unborn child. For some reason, I had convinced myself that I was having a boy, but the photograph in my hands reveals a different truth: A girl. My daughter.
I am overwhelmed with so many emotion—fear, surprise, excitement, love, wonder—that I can’t look away from the image. I am holding, both in my hands and in the low…
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