After her son was born prematurely, Tahmima Anam thought the worst was behind her. But when he was allowed to come home two months later, a new problem emerged: he refused to eat
My son was born twice: first on a warm, late June afternoon in a busy east London hospital, and again five years later at a small children’s nursing home in Queens, New York.
I was six-and-a-half months pregnant when I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia. On the day it happened, I had done a series of unremarkable things: shopping for bread, editing a story, calling my parents in Bangladesh. In the afternoon, my midwife came over for a routine visit. She checked my blood pressure and saw that it was high, so she asked me to pee on a stick. When I returned it to her, she told me to pack a bag.
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