We sit together on a black leather couch and I hold a bundle of white, wadded tissues in my lap. I have poured out the truth of it—how my life was perfect until my wedding day, until we were married. Then everything went downhill. For 10 years life has gone downhill. The tumor, the diabetes, the unnumbered miscarriages, the babies we never held outnumbering the ones we did. The exhaustion that came with the four pregnancies we barely made it through. The months and months of bed rest. The years without pay, without a job, without steady income. We have borne the weight of it. We are tired, Greg and I; we are worn out.
