It looked better on the machine but this is the best printout. On the machine you could clearly make out the beginnings of little arms and legs.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
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Being a mother to two beautiful girls (ages newborn and three), survivor of infertility, dealing with post-partum depression.
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,
And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.
I've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.
1 comment:
I can see the little hands!!!
Wow!! that's very very exciting!!
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