I had a baby, yea. Forget about my addiction. Forget about my recovery. I had a baby when I wasn’t but thirteen years old. I had her out behind the shed when my daddy told me he didn’t want to get any blood on the carpet. He was right to be careful. When the baby came, I spilled more blood than even God could imagine when he came up with the human heart. But I was young and strong, my daddy always said I was a tomboy with a capital “T”, and I felt like I could spill an ocean’s worth and not feel the effect of my life draining away. If I died and came back to life I didn’t notice it enough to tell it.