Sunday, March 8, 2009
Not too long ago, I had a birthday. I figured, what better time than to tell the story of my birth (don't worry, there's nothing gross involved).
I'm the youngest of nine kids. As a result, my mom pretty much had it all figured out when it came to childbirth. When she got to the hospital, I guess my doctor wasn't expecting me because he was at a cocktail party. My mom kept feeling like she should start pushing, and when she told the nurses, they said, "Oh, I don't think you are. Just wait until the doctor gets here."
The doctor wasn't in there because he was out with my dad in the waiting room recovering from his slight alcoholic overindulgence.
Finally after hearing she should wait for the 10th time, she decided she was just going to push anyway. Thankfully, everything was already set up because I didn't end up on the floor.
I came right out in one push. One Push. Just one.
The nurses realized what happened when they heard a baby start crying. I was 7 lbs. 11 oz. and 20 inches. That "little" push brought me into the world at 4:14 a.m.