Thursday, September 17, 2009

Dear Lucy,
I was thinking the other day (I know, you are shocked by this) about how angry babies seem to be when they are born.
They come out all red and wrinkled and covered in slime and howling like the worst of all of life's punishment has been wrought upon them.
From their warm, safe, womb they are suddenly thrust into the blinding light; people handling them, weighing them, cleaning them, the noise deafening, the chaos frightening, their mother worlds away from them and they are naked and exposed and vulnerable, and shivering and looking for a nipple to latch on to.

And, we never change.


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