My Mother Called Me “Damaged Goods” at My Sister’s Baby Shower—Then My Five Children Walked Through the Door

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I smiled faintly at the thought.

“What are you smiling about?” Vivian asked suspiciously.

“Nothing.”

“Have some champagne.”

She picked up a glass and offered it to me.

“It’s not like you need to worry about pregnancy.”

Soft laughter floated through the room.

Not loud.

Not cruel.

Just enough.

Just enough to remind me exactly who these people were.

Three years continue reading …