I had always imagined myself hitching up on to my elbows on the delivery table after it was all over - dead white, of course, with no makeup and from the awful ordeal, but smiling and radiant, with my hair down to my waist, and reaching out for my first little squirmy child and saying its name, whatever it was.
("The Bell Jar")
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The bell jar hung, suspended, a few feet above my head. I was open to the circulating air.
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