When I first fell pregnant, my mother and other elders were happy for me but cautious. They were anxious that I didn’t get ahead of myself and agreed with the world that I shouldn’t reveal a new pregnancy straight away, “in case.” The word miscarriage is routinely substituted for ellipsis and knowing looks.

Several years ago, my sister and I did a remarkable thing — we attended an Anthony Robbins three-day convention. That wasn’t the remarkable part. The remarkable part was we let a stranger convince us to walk over hot coals.