A dead baby in my arms

Five days before this story begins, where everything is upside down, and the end is the beginning.

Me, standing in my PICU, slowly approaching that cradle, then removing the medication, one by one, turning off the syringe pumps. Saying out loud the number of milliliters passed, where that line is trapped, that little division between the professional and me, the person.

Where I stopped being a doctor and became a woman holding …

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