Dear Baby,

I’m not sure whether you’ve grown up in the direction of my lungs or if you’re suddenly (and magically) pressing on my lower esophageal sphincter but either way, if you could cut it out, I’d really appreciate it.  Mama can’t breathe.  You get your oxygen from Mama.  You’re only a fetus, but I’m sure you can grasp what that means.  Thanks.

Love,

Mama

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