The Disservice of the Baby in the Manger

On my last birthday I turned 31. My mother didn’t whip out the old family photo album to show me photos of my infancy, or tell me stories about her decision to have me, or her pregnancy cravings. Instead, she (and others) celebrated who I am today: a 31 year old woman that is marriedContinue reading “The Disservice of the Baby in the Manger”

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