Imagine my dismay when I was virtually booed off the stage by a feminist audience of the lesbian-separatist variety for reading a series of poems that celebrated pregnancy and birth while affirming a woman's strength and power. The poems in no way idealized pregnancy, but you couldn't prove it by an audience of women in rebellion against fifties notions of happy motherhood. To say anything positive about motherhood was to push every one of their emotional buttons. I left the stage devastated and confused ... This experience plunged me into one of the deepest depressions of my life (and did, by the way, end my career as a nursing mother).1
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