My mentally ill mother birthed me, and after she and my mentally ill father raised me for a few years, I was put into the back seat of a taxi, alone, with a handwritten note attached to my coat. The note said "Please take care of me". The taxi driver was instructed to deliver me to my grandmother's house. There was no internet or cell phones back then and the "delivery" was a shock to my grandmother and her family, who were dealing with their own challenges, as well as living in an extremely small basement apartment. This was not a temporary visit. My mother sent me away, permanently. Nevertheless, my grandmother and her family took me in and raised me. I was three years old and for the next sixty years that was my earliest human memory. A trauma memory.