It's 10:43am on the 18th of September and you are being born. Dark hair is covering your head and clay-coloured vernix is coating your body. You're screaming. You're being warmed and weighed. I'm apprehending your pain. I am unsure when I get to hold you; asking the nurses if I should take my shirt off. … Continue reading Being a Father: 14 Vignettes
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Writing Is Prayer 