“I knew, as surely as I now knew that I wanted a child, that this change in fortune was my fault,” she writes. The loss caused Levy to assess her life as a hubristic experiment gone awry. She spent a night in the hospital, then returned home to New York with “a longing – ferocious, primal, limitless, crazed – for the only person I had ever made”. Her son was born alive, but did not survive Levy held him in her hand as he died. A staff writer for the magazine, she had a miscarriage in a hotel room while on assignment in Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia, when she was 19 weeks pregnant. The story of how Levy lost her son was first published in the New Yorker in 2013.
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