The Mad Ink3r

Spilling all kinds of goodies.

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My Morning Cup Of Coffee.

I woke up this morning and was in the happiest mood, ever. My daughter, Summer Copeland was excitedly kicking me in the stomach as her father was rubbing and kissing at my huge belly. She seems to have her favorite parent, though it seems. I'm not sure why I'm so happy but I'm sure she's the reason. I've never seen such beauty in having a little princess growing inside of me, and it brings me back to life more and more. She was definitely my cup of coffee this morning, and her father was too. I love them dearly and the precious moments we have. The laughter, jokes, and tokens of love that are shared among us are blessings. Summer is my Creative charm token. I wear her everywhere that I go. Mommy loves you, girl!

When She Was Born

On Spandrella

When she was born, my father’s heart broke, and one of the things that fell out and rolled under the couch and was never found was the the idea that we can make comforting assumptions about how our children are greeted into this world.

The doctor who diagnosed her with an intestinal blockage gave my father the option of withholding the surgery and letting her die, so that he wouldn’t have to go home with a retarded child.

And when my dad called his mother to tell her about her new granddaughter, she tried to console him by saying that, “At least she’s not a mongoloid.” And he had to take a deep breath and say the words that made it true: his daughter was a mongoloid. Was retarded. Was damaged.

But when he called his friends Artie and Margie, and told them, they said,

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