For a while now, when writing to a friend to congratulate them on a new baby, I have been signing off with, “It’s the beginning of a great adventure.” I like the way the phrase sounds, especially when I imagine Lou Reed singing it, and I like how it embodies my experience of parenthood, how it gives lie to the notion that such a roller coaster of emotional extremes could be thought of as “settling down.” (So far everyone has been too polite or sleep-deprived to point out that Lou Reed never had children, or to remind me how twisted some of the song’s other lyrics are.)In Michelle Tea’s new memoir, Knocking Myself Up: A Memoir of My (In)Fertility, a friend tells her that having a baby is “lif
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