For a few seconds after my mother said she could not congratulate me for “defying God’s will,” no one moved.

Abuela Teresa crossed herself, not theatrically like my mother, but softly, with grief. “She was broken by it.”

My father nodded. “A doctor in Mexico City offered us a treatment. Not like yours. Older, less advanced. Expensive for us. We borrowed money. Your mother cried the whole trip because she thought wanting a child that badly made her selfish.continue reading …