In that moment, I instinctively held my breath and clenched my legs tightly together, but the amniotic fluid still flowed uncontrollably down my thighs.

When my mother-in-law noticed the dampness seeping through my nightgown, she didn’t panic. Instead, she scowled, like she’d been personally affronted. “What’s there to cry about giving birth, huh? Wailing this early in the morning like someone’s died—are you trying to curse me to an early grave? ...