It was dark and warm. I felt safe. Suddenly, something began pushing me out of this comfortable cocoon I'd been calling home for the past several months. It was hours before I was thrown out headfirst into this sinister, unfamiliar place. I heard voices. Urgent whispers. And sounds of crying. It took me a second to realize they were coming from me. I experienced fear in a way I'd never done before. The light hurt my eyes. I wanted to crawl back into my safe haven. It was then that they handed me to her. We looked at each other. She looked tired, but her smile betrayed her happiness on seeing me. "You're beautiful," she whispered, "I love you, little guy." She kissed me gently on the top of my head and held me close. And I knew, in that moment, that I was going to be just fine.
And that, kids, is how I met my mother.
