April 26 is my daughter Allie's birthday, and it is not a birthday by the traditional definition, which marks the day when one was born.
A year ago, on this day, I lay on the exam table as the doctor performed the ultrasound. It was the first day of my eighth-week pregnancy. The doctor pointed at a tiny black dot on the screen and told me that it was my baby. I didn't know anything about this child yet, but my maternal instinct told me that the tiny dot was my girl. She's alive, on the screen.
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