My husband wanted kids. I ruminated on this while I fell asleep. We’d discussed having children a few times as an early-relationship conversation primer. The conversation would always go something like this: we both yearned for something to take care of, we both wanted love without conditions, so on and so forth, and the conversation would progress along these lines until our longings would inevitably diverge. He mentioned his primal desire to see himself in the face of another. I was never sure whether he wanted reflection, to create a mirror in which to see himself more clearly, or to duplicate himself, to live another life in another body, persisting. He could never name what he wanted, whatever it was.