When I found out I was pregnant, Alex and I had just moved into the third story of a brownstone. Its stoop was so steep we were actually living on the the fourth floor if you ask me, and the staircases were crooked and narrow. To say that it would be challenging to climb up and down those stairs while pregnant would be an understatement, and there is no way that we could handle a baby in the apartment we started to call the Nightmare on 71st Street. So, we started to look for another apartment almost as soon as we moved in.
We wanted a true two bedroom apartment. Not the railway car kind, or the kind that guests walk through your bedroom to the bathroom. We were willing to stretch our budget because we knew it would only be for a year or two before we moved out of the city, and we wanted to live it up.