Here I am in August, 1952 at seven-weeks-old, eyes two dots, black as coal. Mouth hanging open as if to say, “Wha’ happened?” I’m sure my incision was still healing and my system resetting itself. I wonder how much I weighed. At three-weeks-old, at the time of the operation, I weighed four pounds. Four weeks later, as shown in the photo, was I at least caught up to my initial birth weight, six pounds seven ounces? When I see this photo, I see a haunted baby. My mother told me that after the surgery, I didn’t smile until I was three months old. “Why not?” I asked her. “Nothing to smile about” was her simple answer.
Here I am five months after the surgery in December, 1952, bouncing up and down.
When a dear friend of mine saw this photo, she called me a “sunbaby.” I’m certainly starting to come alive, yes?