Three, Two, One. Blast Off.

It was a Wednesday morning at 7:30 am when I arrived at the Valley Hospital, still sharing a seat with my mother. It may or may not have been bright outside; it’s highly improbable that, even if I could remember, I could have felt through all the layers of skin and muscle encasing me. It would not be until twelve hours and forty-three minutes later that I would have actually felt what kind of miserably hot, Las Vegas summer my parents suffered to bring me there. But by 8:13 pm, Laura Cope weighed nine pounds less. After half a day in the hospital, she and my dad were thrilled, tired, and relieved. Silly, at such a pivotal point in my existence, I was completely unaware how that moment was quite literally the beginning of the rest of my life.


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