I flinch at the memory of her complaint about being “ridiculously fertile.” Every time a woman complains to me about how fertile she is, a blood vessel in my temple comes closer to popping. Poor me—I’m too fertile, I’ve got too much money in the bank, and every time I eat a slice of chocolate cake, I lose two pounds! Lucky me—I don’t have a problem with being too fertile. In fact, Hank and I have spent every penny we had to have a child, and what do we have to show for it? Absolutely nothing.
