Before I opened my eyes to this world, my body knew pain. It wasn't the nurturing warmth of a mother's love that I felt in the womb; it was the pull and poison of addiction. Cocaine coursed through my tiny viens, shaping my first experience of life. While other babies grew in a cocoon of safety, I was introduced to a chaotic battle that defined my earliest moments. When I was born, I wasn't greeted with joy and celebration. My entry into the world was met with panic, medical interventions, and uncertainty. The doctors didn't see a healthy, thriving newborn. They saw a baby fighting withdrawal symptoms that no child should ever endure. My tiny body shook uncontrollably, wracked with tremors, sleepless nights became my norm. The nurses said I screamed constantly, but my cries weren't those of a typical baby. They were cries of pain, withdrawal and confusion.