I made it to the hospital without fully miscarrying, and they wheeled me into surgery past a stack of incubators and the sounds of a newborn crying. The op went so well, coming out of the 10-minute general anesthesia was as refreshing as waking up from an afternoon nap. No pain, no hemorrhaging, no tears. It was as if it had happened to someone else. Of course, I tried not to dwell on it — and intellectually I know there’s almost nothing a pregnant woman can do to cause a loss — but I was still paranoid about the ibuprofen I'd taken for pharyngitis before I knew I was pregnant, and the apple cider vinegar I'd gargled which one website said pregnant women should avoid. And the two large glasses of sangria I'd drunk. And the raw cheese I'd consumed. And the folic acid I'd not started until the second month. And my aging eggs.