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I was thirty-four weeks pregnant, sitting on the floor of our Chicago apartment, staring at a miniature denim jacket. It was roughly the size of a large grapefruit and as stiff as a piece of cardboard. Someone had given it...

I was sweating through my nursing tank trying to force my four-month-old's rigid, chubby little legs into a pair of miniature selvedge denim jeans. My mother-in-law was arriving in ten minutes for a family dinner. He looked like a tiny...