I spent the past week working "unfortunate" labors - patients who stand very little chance of raising their baby well. They live in horrible, toxic homes surrounded by angry, nasty people. The cute element of having a new baby around will last about as long as that baby remains docile. When that first sleepless night of nonstop crying happens - there won't be enough cuteness to go around. That child will grow up angry and neglected - forever trying to either clear out or add to the chaos that is their life. Jesus = what the hell is the purpose of that? There are those who say, "every baby's a miracle" and I say - maybe not. Almost anybody can have a baby. You need a license to have a dog. But babies? Have at it - free rein. Have a ball.
The flip side of working with crazy people is how clean and well-lit my own life is. I've always known I'm an uncommonly lucky person. I have everything - a great home, husband, family, children and really rewarding work. Hell, even my dogs are better than most. Much of the time, I'm really healthy and those times when I'm not - well, let's just not go there. I'm lucky - damnit - and grateful for it.
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