An exclusive extract from Marlo Mack’s touching new memoir When the world split wide open, it was a November evening. We had just walked in the front door and were shedding the day’s damp coats and bags. Outside, the Seattle sky was preparing for an early bedtime, transforming the cloud ceiling from old-pillow gray to the color of wet ash. I reached out to flip on the lights and felt my child slip his hand into mine. “Mama,” he said, “something went wrong in your tummy.” I heard my purse hit the floor. “It did?” “Yes,” he said. “And it…
