It seemed every conceivable story of pregnancy complication or loss found its way to my social media feed, and as my skin stretched over my belly, it was as if it became more porous, more absorbent of the suffering of others, particularly the mothers and children whose flight from violence in Syria and Iraq occupied the news hour each night. I’ve always had an active imagination, but pregnancy sent it into overdrive, the scenarios it conjured enough to impress the most ambitious horror novelist.
