My father, Allen Sokoler, never spoke about the first nine years of his life, when he lived in Germany. My two brothers and I knew instinctively not to ask, not to mention the country’s name in his presence. We avoided bringing German-made goods into our house — not even German chocolate would cross our threshold.

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As an expectant mother, I knew the birth of my first child would bring boundless challenges along with boundless joys. I did not, however, anticipate that by the time my son turned a month old, I would believe that having a baby was the biggest mistake of my life.

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