Our very first moment together was very nearly our last. In a way that now seems utterly unsurprising, you were quite literally tangled up within me. Wedged inside my womb, stuck between scar tissue from your brother and sister, and the rest of me. Right from the beginning, you accepted as perfectly perfect a pretty busted up version of me. For over an hour, a team of doctors, most of whom I'd never met or seen before and had been hastened to our OR with a sense of urgency consulted and pushed and tugged and carefully made space for you to leave me, or join me as it is. I should've known then as I know now so deeply in my bones. You and I will always be destined to be tangled up in each other. When you were two I took you to a mommy and me gym class. The instructor introduced himself and his "friend," the other instructor. Then we went around in a circle and the other babies tentatively said their names. When it was your turn, you didn't hesitate: "I'm