Since the Creation of My Son and My First Book

On the fifth day for twelve hours we struggled to separate. He was strangling on the umbilical cord. I vomited. No anesthesia, just him and i trying to part. I did not cry. Instead, I thought of the ocean and how much I would like to see it again. (A kind of promise I made to myself if I got out of there alive.) My tiny baby had no name. He lived in a glass box with a tube through his nose and down his throat for twenty-one days. His mother received no flowers for her victory

Art · Art history · Political science · Politics · Throat · Victory · American Sports and Literature · Educational Leadership and Practices · History · Jungian Analytical Psychology · Law · Medicine · Surgery