As I looked at that round baby boy for the first time I felt pity—for him and for me. For years I had dreamed of the magical moment that would make me a mother. I fantasized of the closeness and effortless love I’d instantly feel for my offspring. I longed for the palpable whispering that he had come straight from Him. Yet as I sat in my wheelchair eight hours after delivery and met my firstborn for the first time--this little man who was...
