I wrote Otto's birth story to share with y'all. I wanted to set the record straight about the "new cesarean," about bravery and about section-stigma. I had so many words down on paper.
This isn't that draft of the story. This is the one where I say all that matters about the birth of Otto.
I watched him be pulled from my body by the seat of his birthday-suit. I, for the first time, witnessed a tiny boy that I had grown become part of a much bigger world.
As the cord that tied us together pulsed for the last few times I held his hand from the opposite side of a clear drape.
Most importantly I held him. First. I got to be first this time.
Otto – you are loved.
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