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  • You: A squirmy, slimy amorphous blob dumped unceremoniously on my tummy.

    Me: The one who, after the initial shock, exclaimed, "Isn't she beautiful!" followed closely by, "Take me to your leader," on noting the pronounced cone shape of your head from the forceps birth.

    You: Whisked away almost immediately to have your lungs suctioned while doctors did unspeakable things to my privates.

    It's been five whole years to the day since I last saw that squealing newborn. Today I have a lively, loquacious five-year old, but I'm still not sure where you've gone. If this was you, let me know. You can always leave a message with my daughter.
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