I was six months pregnant when my sister-in-law locked me out on the balcony in the freezing cold and said, “Maybe a little suffering will toughen you up.”

I don’t know how long I was out there. Ten minutes? Twenty? Maybe longer. In the cold, time lost all meaning. All I knew was my hands had stopped hurting because I could barely feel them anymore, which scared me more than the pain had. My breath came out in weak bursts, and each cramp in my stomach felt tighter than the last.

I kept thinking about the baby.