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He was cold.
Not a little chilled.
Cold.
“Daniel!” I screamed.
My husband came rushing in from the hallway, still buttoning his flannel shirt.
Then he saw the baby.
And stopped.
Not confused.
Not shocked.
Frozen.
“Call 911,” he said quickly. “Isobel, call 911.”
But I was already wrapping the baby in a towel from the oven handle, rubbing his back gently, whispering continue reading …
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