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When I was about 16, I was snooping in my parents’ wardrobe and found a diary written by my mother when she was 14. I read some beautifully and brilliantly written entries about meeting and dating my dad (who was 16 at the time). I had to read a little between the lines in some slightly later entries as they were written with such flowery language.
In one such entry, all of a sudden, she discloses that my grandfather, who was an anesthesiologist, performed an abortion for her. She never told anyone.
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