teenageparenting

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Her belly grows and grows, but nobody knows. Sweatshirts are too small, the inevitable becomes apparent. Waddles through hallways, up flights of stairs, back aches.
Hands are beautiful... They touch and caress. They love and hold. They grasp a hand and hold it firmly to ensure. They touch a face sweetly and move the cascading hair gently from a face and ensure something.
Four childish eyes Looking at their own child Eight hands kept the baby standing Wrinkly hands against smooth skin Loved by six people Raised by six parents   Two created her
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