I’m 75 now. My name is Margaret, and my husband Thomas and I have been married for more than half a century. For most of our marriage, it was just the two of us. We wanted children desperately. We tried everything that was offered at the time—tests, injections, specialists, appointments that blurred together. I still remember the day the doctor folded his hands and said, gently, “Your chances are extremely low. I’m very sorry.” That was it. No miracle ending. No next step. Just a quiet door closing. We grieved in our own way, then learned how to live around...
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