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By

Jamie Gillespie
My body tightened. I was exhausted. We'd wasted all his sperm over the past week. Why didn’t I wait for the stick to say I was ovulating? My mucus told me I was fertile four days ago. My body doesn’t work. “Babe, we need to have sex,” I called from the bathroom.
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A house of two alcoholics and not much social interaction had brought me here. What was normal in our home, the slurred words, was exposed to the outside world for the first time.
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