As
I enter my final few weeks of pregnancy, I sometimes worry about
ordering a cup of coffee. Too often, the barista responds, “Decaf?” or a
stranger within earshot wonders aloud whether I’m “allowed” to drink
that.It’s not just coffee. When I was pregnant with my daughter, a waitress balked at my husband and my order of labneh, and a co-worker expressed shock that I was eating sushi (never mind that I’m vegetarian, and the sushi in question involved avocados and cucumbers).
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