The way my mum tells it, I cried non-stop for the first 12 months of my life.
I say cry but she describes it as more of a series of never ending ear-splitting screams – to the point where I gave myself a hernia and spent my first birthday in hospital having it repaired.
It seems everyone tried to comfort me but to no avail and so they went into survival mode. My dad still talks of turning up the radio to drown me out while there is also a story of me being wheeled in my pram to the end of the, admittedly not very long, garden and being left to wail on my own – though neither of them will admit to being the one who did this.
When they used to tell me those stories, long before I had…
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