Rachel Diamond looks like most of the moms at the Park Slope café where we meet. She’s wearing a green T-shirt under a black corduroy jumper, sensible shoes and carries a smart, leather bag. She sips a four dollar iced chai. Except the 31-year-old isn’t a mom. And she never will be.
“You know,” Diamond says cheerily, “I never expected to be the poster child of sterilization.”
