I rescued this baby from my mother's attic. She has the name "Alexander" and 1977 imprinted on the base of her neck, so she probably belonged to me when I was little. She doesn't look like a Madam, but what do I know?*
She came to me this second time a little ragged, well worn. Her body was stained, and she was spilling cotton out of her crotch (sadly). Baby was in need of a little scrub-a-dub and some stitching up.
I first tried non-invasive procedures. I washed her with dishsoap and a toothbrush to get out the stains. I then sat her outside to dry. But it did not quite work. She was still wet after two days, and her tummy had started smelling funny. More stains came out of the fabric and she looked (and smelled) worse than before. The diagnosis was: time for surgery. There was no choice. Had to be done.
So I slit open her belly and removed all of her now-sodden cotton stuffing. I dunked her in a bucket of hot soapy detergent and went to work with a stiff scrubbing brush. After a thorough rinsing, she went straight into the dryer. A few tumble tumbles later, she came out all dry and clean. It worked.
I then pulled out my bag o' wool, stuffed her back up, and sutured up the belly. Good as new. The problem is, though, that she does not have a name. Surely I gave her one when I was a kid, but I cannot remember. Perhaps Gioia can think of a new one.
*UPDATED - She is indeed a Madame Alexander: a "Sweet Tears" baby doll.