Amanda Knox

The same body that ordered mozzarella sticks from the late-night menu and stared into a computer like it had a soul. The body that had, just a few years prior, snorted a key of cocaine supplied by the party bus driver hired to transport it to medieval times. This body was now working very seriously to generate a new human.

I had posed the body for Instagram, clutching my bump with two hands as if it might bounce away. I had bought a noise machine with a womb setting and thrown away the box. Now I lay on the table as the doctor stood in his chamber, rewinding the tape of my life. My phone sat on an empty chair, six feet away. Smothered beneath my smug maternity dress, it blinked silently with text messages from Mark.

I had posed the body for Instagram, clutching my bump with two hands as if it might bounce away. I had bought a noise machine with a womb setting and thrown away the box. Now I lay on the table as the doctor stood in his chamber, rewinding the tape of my life. My phone sat on an empty chair, six feet away. Smothered beneath my smug maternity dress, it blinked silently with text messages from Mark.

I had posed the body for Instagram, clutching my bump with two hands as if it might bounce away. I had bought a noise machine with a womb setting and thrown away the box. Now I lay on the table as the doctor stood in his chamber, rewinding the tape of my life. My phone sat on an empty chair, six feet away. Smothered beneath my smug maternity dress, it blinked silently with text messages from Mark.

If I had the phone, I could hold it close to the exam table and Google my way out. I could pour my fears into its portal and process them into answers. I could consult the pregnant women who came before me, dust off their old message board posts, and read of long-ago ultrasounds that found weird ears and stuck-out tongues.

If I had the phone, I could hold it close to the exam table and Google my way out. I could pour my fears into its portal and process them into answers. I could consult the pregnant women who came before me, dust off their old message board posts, and read of long-ago ultrasounds that found weird ears and stuck-out tongues.

If I had the phone, I could hold it close to the exam table and Google my way out. I could pour my fears into its portal and process them into answers. I could consult the pregnant women who came before me, dust off their old message board posts, and read of long-ago ultrasounds that found weird ears and stuck-out tongues.

They had dropped their baby's fates into the internet like coins into a fountain, and I would scrounge through them all, looking for the lucky penny. For the woman who returned to say, it turned out to be nothing. Trick of light.

They had dropped their baby's fates into the internet like coins into a fountain, and I would scrounge through them all, looking for the lucky penny. For the woman who returned to say, it turned out to be nothing. Trick of light.

They had dropped their baby's fates into the internet like coins into a fountain, and I would scrounge through them all, looking for the lucky penny. For the woman who returned to say, it turned out to be nothing. Trick of light.

Yeah. You know, I started to think about writing a book about technology before I became pregnant, not sort of planning to focus it on this time in my life. And then instantly, once I became pregnant, my relationship with technology became so much more intense. And I really felt myself being influenced by what it was telling me.

Yeah. You know, I started to think about writing a book about technology before I became pregnant, not sort of planning to focus it on this time in my life. And then instantly, once I became pregnant, my relationship with technology became so much more intense. And I really felt myself being influenced by what it was telling me.

Yeah. You know, I started to think about writing a book about technology before I became pregnant, not sort of planning to focus it on this time in my life. And then instantly, once I became pregnant, my relationship with technology became so much more intense. And I really felt myself being influenced by what it was telling me.

I'm someone who, you know, I understand that reproduction is a normal event. But it really came as a shock to me when there was a person growing inside of me and I felt like I really didn't know what to do. And so I also, you know, early in my pregnancy didn't want to talk to any people about it. So I turned to the internet. I turned to apps. Later when my child was born, I turned to gadgets.

I'm someone who, you know, I understand that reproduction is a normal event. But it really came as a shock to me when there was a person growing inside of me and I felt like I really didn't know what to do. And so I also, you know, early in my pregnancy didn't want to talk to any people about it. So I turned to the internet. I turned to apps. Later when my child was born, I turned to gadgets.

I'm someone who, you know, I understand that reproduction is a normal event. But it really came as a shock to me when there was a person growing inside of me and I felt like I really didn't know what to do. And so I also, you know, early in my pregnancy didn't want to talk to any people about it. So I turned to the internet. I turned to apps. Later when my child was born, I turned to gadgets.

And it was only later that I really began to understand that these technologies work as narrative devices. And they were working in my life to tell me a certain story about my role as a parent and the expectations for my child.

And it was only later that I really began to understand that these technologies work as narrative devices. And they were working in my life to tell me a certain story about my role as a parent and the expectations for my child.

And it was only later that I really began to understand that these technologies work as narrative devices. And they were working in my life to tell me a certain story about my role as a parent and the expectations for my child.

I mean, I think I just assumed I did until much later when I started to feel as if it didn't really matter how it happened, that I had created my son and he was wonderful and and I was capable as his mother. But I carried that idea with me for such a long time.