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In our new series Pregnancy Diaries , we ask expecting women to jot down every pregnancy-related detail of their lives for a week. (Special thanks to New York mag and Refinery29 for the inspo.) Work-related conundrums, struggles with IVF, and a whole lot of nausea, ahead. For our eighth entry, we have a 33-year-old part-time publicist from Connecticut who’s 25 weeks along. She and her husband of almost eight years have a “spirited” two-and-a-half-year-old girl, and don’t know the sex of baby number two.  How long did it take you to conceive?  It took just a couple of months to conceive baby #2. My cycle has tended to fluctuate month-to-month since having my daughter, so it was a bit of a challenge to track accurately. We’ve been incredibly fortunate and have not experienced any fertility issues to-date. Any other details relevant to your pregnancy? Our daughter was born three weeks and one day early, and I gave birth less than three hours after my water broke. This is known as precipit...

THIS IS A RUSH TRANSCRIPT. THIS COPY MAY NOT BE IN ITS FINAL FORM AND MAY BE UPDATED. THIS IS A RUSH TRANSCRIPT. THIS COPY MAY NOT BE IN ITS FINAL FORM AND MAY BE UPDATED. ANDERSON COOPER, CNN ANCHOR: Good evening, everyone. The program is called NEWSNIGHT, though tonight it may seem a little more like lifestyles of the celebrities and the sub-lebrities, the famous and the infamous. When we looked at what we are covering tonight, we realized we are dealing with a pretty eclectic group of characters. We'll talk about the threat of cyber-terrorism, a big story today , with the man once known as America's most wanted computer outlaw , former hacker, convicted hacker , Kevin Mitnick. We'll look back at someone more famous than infamous, John Entwistle , bassist for The Who, the quiet one -- not hard when you're playing next to Pete Townshend. He was found dead today in Las Vegas, a day before The Who was to start touring. We'll also meet someone who's not exactly ...

My first time was innocuous, free of hatred or pity, a thought beginning and ending with curiosity alone. Twenty-nine years ago, Molly Johns and I met on the playground outside our kindergarten classroom, back when you could still eat peanut butter cookies in school and no one knew there was sugar in chocolate milk. One day, she and I walked into the bathroom separately and left holding hands . We stayed that way for much of the year, best friends, rarely speaking a word to each other. My memory here is certain but not sharp: I am passing the playground’s plastic slide, and Molly’s arm is there, close to mine, and her arm is not the same as my arm. And here I confess: I want that for my daughter. I don’t want to shield her, exactly; I want to hand her an heirloom, bequeath a moment of acknowledging race on her own terms, before the world rushes in to lay it all bare. I want for my girl to have just one she’s-not-the-same-as-me moment. Then I want the curtains to close, and I want the ...