After giving birth, the small sting that hurt the most
My second miscarriage started in a Starbucks bathroom, and I couldn’t have felt more alone. Where to go from there? I drove home, took as much ibuprofen as I could stomach, and resolved to quit my stressful teaching job.
I found a new position at a nonprofit, training writers to teach in public schools. My husband, who’d always been an entrepreneur, continued to lead a startup that encouraged girls to dream …
