I wasn’t afraid of giving birth. I was healthy, I was in love, and at 29, I was seemingly the youngest pregnant person in Manhattan.
“I have a feeling this will be very easy for you,” my doctor confessed as my due date approached. “In my experience, women with freckles rarely have complications.”
But a few days after I delivered a healthy baby boy, there was a problem. Between every breast-feeding session I was rushing to the bathroom. I had expected all sorts of postpartum aches and pains, but diarrhea?