When I was a little girl around the age of 7 in the late 1960s, the most exciting thing in the world was to persuade my parents to take me and my sisters to Sharp Hospital, up the road from where I lived in San Diego, to go see the newborn babies through the hospital window. In my little-kid mind, two things were very important - to see the giant statue of the stork carrying a baby at the hospital entrance, and to see the window with all the newborn babies and find the babies in the incubators, marveling at how tiny they were...