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Mom Memories: Motherhood freakin hurts!

I am face-down on the floor, the life force ebbing from my body. Must. Dial. Phone.

“9-1-1. What is your emergency?”

I croak but can’t speak.

“Ma’am? What is the nature of your emergency?”

Can’t. Catch. Breath.

“Ma’am, are you choking?”

“No,” I manage.

“Are you bleeding? Is there an intruder in the house? Are you on fire? Is there a Doberman hanging from your jugular?”