The baby shower was supposed to be perfect. Pink and blue balloons bobbed from every chair, a three-tiered cake shaped like building blocks held court on the dessert table, and thirty-seven guests crowded into my mother’s living room, cooing over tiny clothes and passing around ultrasound photos like sacred relics. I was unwrapping a set of burp cloths when the nausea hit—a familiar green wave that had been my constant companion for six months.
