The first time I woke up at three in the morning and found my husband sitting on the bathroom floor with the faucet running, I was five weeks pregnant.I’d rolled over to tell him I needed to pee again, which was all I seemed to do those days, and his side of the bed was empty. The sheets were cold. Down the hall, under the bathroom door, there was a thin line of light. And the sound of water. Running. Steady. Like somebody washing their hands and forgetting to stop.I knocked.“Ben?”..READ MORE BELOW..
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