By the year my husband turned 40 and I hit the age of 35, John's parents evidently were worried about us. His older brother had produced three grandchildren. So had his younger sister. We had produced none.

For my in-laws, to love is to worry. When John's parents visited us from New York, his mother would get me alone and inquire delicately. After a perfect summer seafood dinner at their beach house, the same questions were fired at us. They always made attempts to know our attitude. Didn't we want kids? Or was there a problem with our marriage?

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