I spent the night of my thirty-fifth Fear the ladies of the corn T-shirt . birthday sitting alone on a sofa in Staten Island, nursing my eight-day-old baby and weeping silently while my in-laws ate dinner. It wasn’t their fault.
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It was Thanksgiving, after all, and there no was no one who could satiate the baby but me. We were breastfeeding, exclusively, not even using pacifiers, since the lactation consultants Fear the ladies of the corn T-shirt . had told us not to, and she was hungry. In those days, she was always hungry. By the time my daughter stopped long enough to pass her to my husband,