I do not want to go to jail
Fresh and clean and new and ruddy. Pink and screaming and tongues and fists. Tightly curled legs and arms, fingers clenched close to your mouth. Tiny hiney, little wee toes, flat nose, pursed lips flutter with every breath.
I want to steal you from your teenage parents while they are outside having a smoke. They are not nursing you and my breasts ache to hold you. I do hold you in the nursery while your heel warms for another billirubin check. You are calm and snuggling. You are innocent and sweet. Completely open to the world held out before you. The very beginning of you life. Your father is protective and holds you confidently. Your mom is tired and embarrassed by her sore bottom and my prodding hands.
I whisper goodbye to you and wish you well in your life. I do not steal you because I do not want to go to jail.
blahblahblah 
So sweet and sad.
Be careful, those babies are addictive. Believe me, I know
if babies are an addiction, then I must surely have overdosed. Cole, i bet you can sneak one out in a laundry basket or a big purse.
A boy or a girl, this baby?
Sorry that Chica was sick today. Let’s try to get together soon.
XOXO
L
Oh, jail is bad. And I know just how yummy and addictive newborns are.
Heartbreaking.
When we were in the throws of our IVF treatments, before Bean was born, I began to imagine how women could steal babies. I could feel the desperation just below my skin every time I saw a young pregnant girl. I wanted to wisk her away and hide her and tell her how hard it would be to care for a baby and pray that she had no family to help her and somehow she would decide to give me her baby. It was a very real and scary feeling for me. But the whole jail thing….yeah, that pretty much snapped me back into reality. But man….that thought crossed my mind in a real, scary way.