After I saw the movie For Keeps with Molly Ringwald in 1988, I was pretty much scared off children for the next two decades. But when I hit thirty-four, my husband’s biological clock started drinking and screaming at me before bed that it was time to put somebody else first. Him. So we got pregnant. When Jason and I got married, I made all sorts of vows and promises, some of which I intended to keep (and others I just said in the moment to make him come faster). My life was exciting, sexy, and ever so slightly eccentric. I had a healthy relationship with a Hollywood actor who, despite my valiant efforts, remained more famous than me. He understood my neuroses, my fear of commitment, and my insistence on wearing his ex-girlfriend’s beach caftan on vacation. He showed compassion when I got kicked off jury duty for accidentally befriending the defendant over lunch break. He even found it sweet when I invited our drug dealer to Passover seder because I didn’t want him to think we were only using him for drugs.
