The Exceptional Parent

Almost eleven years ago to the day, my newborn baby lay in a non-toxic plastic and tilted hospital cradle under a bright bulb with thin, nearly translucent flailing arms. She was quiet at first, but after they sucked the gunk from her, she began to wail. I had been desperate to hold her and now I could place her on my chest, and I pushed my breast in her face, and insisted that this mamalia relationship was

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