Monday, October 1, 2012

Giving Birth is Hard; Being Born is Easy

I'm participating in a blog hop from Jane Ann Mclachlan called October Memoir and Backstory Blog Contest (or, at least, I'll participate in some of it; we'll have to see if I make it all the way). So, here is my first post (concerning age 1-2).

I clearly remember the day I was born. It was a cold day in November. Everyone was nervous: my mother, the doctor, the nurses. (Where was my father?) They were all worried but me. I knew everything would turn out all right. I was so happy to be born. I knew I would have a magnificent life, full of exciting adventures; by the way, being born is the first great adventure, is it not? (And, yes, those adventures did come true, but that's another story.) All they could think about was will I be a boy or a girl. Ha, ha. I kept them waiting and guessing until the last second. All I could think about was why is this happening. Why all this fuss and bother? What's so special about being born? Everyone's born, right? We all move from darkness to light, right? (Of course, we all move from light to darkness, eventually, but that's another story.) There is so much to say about being born--the noise, the wetness, the pressure, the cry--yes, the cry, the first sound we make--that makes everyone happy and relieved. At first, crying is a wonderful thing. Your mother, your father, everyone, comes to you when you cry. (There's a time when that changes, but that's another story.) So my first day of life was a great adventure that made everyone happy. Isn't that the point of being born?
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