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This post will send every mother on a trip back to the birth of their baby

I look back on that first night and the memory is a haze. I could not think. I could barely move.

Your Dad was on a roll-out bed on the floor next to me. You were in one of those hospital plastic cots beside him.

I was dead tired. Drained. Exhausted. In pain. You were crying. Not the kind that tore the walls down. But the kind that I now know meant you were scared, alone, wanting me. But I just called out to you, annoyed, and hushed you to sleep.

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