Each year Acacia’s birthday is a time of celebration, edged with the depression of dark memories during her birth week. Instead of cuddling and bonding with my newborn we were separated by the ICU crib while I gazed at her tiny body invaded by tubes and wires. I sat helpless while she fought for her life against the ravages …
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Skimming Stones | Sula's Blog | Sula1968 A South African poet, potter and mother