“I was 25. I’d graduated with my master’s degree the previous fall. I’d gotten married to my best friend since childhood two months earlier. In almost every way, from the outside, I was reaching all of my five year goal milestones in a neat little line except nobody besides my husband knew how much I was struggling with suicidal thoughts and utter depression. My new job was killing me with a 90 minute commute both ways. We weren’t making enough to keep the two of us fed. The house we were renting, that was barely in our price range, was covered in black mold in a neighborhood where our windows were busted in on the regular and we later discovered had a carbon monoxide leak that was exacerbating my mental and physical health concerns. I was terrified. I wanted to be a mom with every fiber of my being, but knew we did not have the resources or environment to bring a child into safely. My husband helped me make my appointments. He drove me over an hour away, in winter holiday traffic, t...