Ariel Levy has written the most terrifying reproduction story since "Rosemary's Baby" for the New Yorker. As a journalist, she travels the globe, and she finds herself far from home when her pregnancy goes off the rails. The result is an eviscerating tale: "Thanksgiving in Mongolia."
I got pregnant quickly, to my surprise and delight, shortly before my thirty-eighth birthday. It felt like making it onto a plane the moment before the gate closes—you can’t help but thrill. After only two months, I could hear the heartbeat of the creature inside me at the doctor’s office. It seemed like magic: a little eye of newt in my cauldron and suddenly I was a witch with the power to brew life into being. Even if you are not Robinson Crusoe in a solitary fort, as a human being you walk this world by yourself. But when you are pregnant you are never alone.