“This had become a common occurrence lately. Routine morning sickness. Dr. Faulk, her OB, was not concerned. This morning, however, the nausea had persisted, her silent companion in the traffic surging across the Golden Gate Bridge, down into the parking garage beneath the blocky office building and up the elevator to the office of the Comic Relief Syndicate on the twenty-third floor. She’d consumed nothing stronger than tea and oyster crackers for breakfast. Most days, she managed to ke...ep her first meal down, but not today. This morning, everything was exacerbated by nerves. Snap out of it, she told herself. She needed to focus on providing for her child. It was one thing to indulge her own misery, curled in the fetal position under an eiderdown comforter. It was quite another to realize that she didn’t have the luxury to wallow. Not anymore. When you have a child, you have someone else to live for—and to make a living for.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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