Grace After Midnight
Chapter One
BABY GIRL
I was born in Baltimore twenty-seven years ago, and then I
died-twice. I died both times because my mother was filled with
drugs and so was I. Crack babies are messed-up babies, and,
according to what the doctors were saying, I didn't have a prayer.
But they brought me back from death's door. Someone or something
keeps bringing me back from death's door.
I don't understand it, but maybe writing this book will help me see
who I was and who I became.
Sometimes I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine myself
back then:
A little-bitty baby small enough to fit into the palm of the
doctor's hand, no bigger than a puppy or kitten; a baby who has to
be fed with an eye dropper 'cause her mouth is too small for the
nipple of a bottle; a baby born cross-eyed due to the drugs running
through her system.
A baby born to die.
But that same doomed-to-die baby finds a way to live.
How?
Why?
Sure wasn't because of Mama. Mama was Loretta Chase. The woman may
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