“Well, I’m pregnant. My breasts are tender and my stomach is in turmoil: I should have known. I call my boyfriend, my underwear still hooked around my ankles; I trip, pacing. I give him the facts. I’m sorry, he says, and then goes quiet. I’m impatient; I say something like, So, do you know where we can get a good crib? I listen to him gasp for breath and then remember that’s just how he laughs.”