Dancing Echoes

Beats Stumbling Around in Silence

Why I am the Luckiest Girl in the World


Warning: if you are squeamish do not read this while eating.

REDdog at Shed Reflections had a nickname questionnaire blog back in September in which one of the questions was “What was your favorite era?” This got me to thinking about how I arrived in this world.

To say I am scrappy is an understatement. When I was born, my mothers first thoughts must of been, “This is a tough one.” What she didn’t know but would soon find out, was that I was really just an asshole. From birth. But I digress. She had lost four babies before me, the last one surviving three days. It must have been horrible for her emotionally as well as physically. She could never carry a baby to full term because of a short cervix. A simple sneeze would send her into labor. I was a bit of an experiment in that they sewed her cervix shut (sorry, I warned you not to eat) and put her on complete bed rest for the last two trimesters. I suppose that is why my most defining characteristics are impatience with a healthy dose of stubbornness mixed in for good measure. Here is a quick background: my Mom was a practicing pharmacist in the 50’s and 60’s so she tested birth control for pharmaceuticals fully wanting to get pregnant. And my parents were nothing if they weren’t fertile. Mom thinks I was a spermicidal (not to be confused with homicidal) foam test baby. Like I said, scrappy. I am guessing that the pharmaceutical companies had found their “Dream Team”. If my Mom could go a few months without getting pregnant, they knew they had a winner. So imagine my parents delight when she got pregnant with me and thanks to this new procedure called a “Shirodkar”, yeah, look it up I’ll wait: Shirodkar Procedure,  was able to carry me to a survivable term. Her willingness to be a “guinea pig” for science still leaves me awestruck. I was a planned C-section, just after Christmas, not quite full term so that she would not go into true labor which could potentially rip her apart. Queasy yet? Mom wanted to be awake for the birth so she opted for a spinal. Things did not go well (OK, you might want to put that sandwich down, NOW) so she felt the entire C-section from start to finish. After she was sewn back up she also experienced a build up of gas that she described as excruciating pain beyond anything she’d ever experienced. And this woman clearly knows pain.

Fortunately there were better days ahead, sort of:

I've clearly just been fed.

I’ve clearly just been fed.

So after going through all that pain to have a baby, you would think my poor Mom deserved a sweet, cuddly baby to hold. But no, I would have none of that. Fast forward to my infancy/childhood and imagine her dismay when it turns out I am not a touchy-feely, cuddle baby. I did not like to be cuddled, held, rocked, hugged or restrained. Just feed me and let me nap, thanks. My first growls were “Put me down”, “I do it “and “Don’t touch me”. If you tried to pick me up I would immediately go into a strychnine arch. I found it particularly effective to stiffen my back and dig my feet into my Mom’s soft parts for a quick release. Juxtapose that with the limp noodle routine and I could usually be left alone for a while. And then there was the time I knocked out my Mom’s front tooth with a head butt (in my defense there was no malicious intent). The list of my obnoxious behavior goes on but you get the picture. I was a force to be reckoned with. In hindsight it was probably a good thing she had to suffer so badly to give birth otherwise she would have killed me. Shit, I would have killed me. I still need a HUGE personal space and am possibly the only person that gets MORE tense from a massage, at least from a stranger. I don’t like getting my hair cut or nails done either. When someone reaches out to touch me I have to fight my natural instinct to recoil. I know, weird right? So now I am sure you are all thinking, what about sex? OK, who doesn’t? Sex is different for me as in I compartmentalize sex as a different kind of touch. Someone has to be pretty special before I let them into my personal space so sex has served as an internal barometer for a higher level of love and trust in my life. Does my lack of physical affection make me an asshole? Some people might read it that way but no, I am an asshole for different reasons to be discussed at a another time. Again, I digress, but I snuck sex in there at the end to hold your attention (I’m a quick study Gunmetal Geisha, see “Sex Sells and Most of the Time It’s Irrelevant“).

In nutshell, that is how I came in to the world, not like other kids (shit, they had to sew me in for God’s sake), but on my own prickly terms, none the less intact.

So when REDdog asked the question, “What was your favorite era?” My answer was immediately, right fucking now. My current era, because the stars aligned and I got lucky. If I had been conceived any sooner I never would have made it, scrappy or not.

Do you have an interesting story about how you came into the world that you want to share?

Author: Dancing Echoes

I am a scientist by trade and artist by soul. My creative outlet used to be dancing but due to injuries and age, I must now find another path. I am hoping my writing, poetry and photography can be this new path. Awards: While I am grateful and honored for the numerous nominations, I don’t have time to respond to them with the attention they deserve, so for the most part, I am an award free blog. All photographs and words are mine unless otherwise credited. © 2015-2023 Dancing Echoes ALL RIGHTS RESERVED Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Christy Draper with appropriate and specific direction to the original content on Dancing Echoes.

18 thoughts on “Why I am the Luckiest Girl in the World

  1. Good grief, we could’ve been brother and sister! Imagine poor ol’ Mum THEN!

    I’ve never had a massage…the very thought of it makes me clench my arse cheeks…and my fists haa!

    Love this. Respect REDdog

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you for being my first follow as well as a great inspiration!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Pingback: Why “Dancing Echoes” or The Double REDdog Dare – Dancing Echoes

  4. Haha, “quick study” — I like it! Looking forward to more of your stuff.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Thank you. I consider it quite an honor to have you follow me.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I was wrenched from the womb. The warm, snug, safe, moist, womb. Wrenched from it I was and I still have the marks to prove it. And I am reminded of that wretched wrenching every morning when I try to emerge from the warm, snug, safe confines of my duvet. Although to be fair, if it’s moist, I get out pretty sharpish!

    Liked by 2 people

  7. So every morning is a rebirth…….

    Liked by 1 person

  8. Absolutely. The only real difference is that on that first occasion, I was held upside down, naked, by the ankles and slapped on the bottom by a nurse until I cried. It’s never happened since. I’ll leave you to judge whether or not I have a tinge of regret about that.

    Liked by 2 people

  9. I’m pretty sure I’m a failed abortion; my mother always hated me, my face is fucked up and I’ve wished I was dead everyday.
    I love your story.

    Liked by 1 person

  10. Thank you for the kind words. Please, if you were dead then we couldn’t enjoy your wonderful blog. I am beginning to like your idea of “the widgets can wait” because I feel overwhelmed with the assignments and all I really want to do is discover and read more interesting people like yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

  11. oh, i discovered after i just left that alone that it just clicked, no pun intended, one day. some of the widgets are more complicated and those now can wait. it’s hard to sometimes just take a breath and realize, ‘it’s not the right time now’. I actually think I wrote something about that somewhere. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  12. Yes you did, quite eloquently.

    Liked by 1 person

  13. Ah jeez, don’t say such things — it’s my pleasure!

    Liked by 1 person

  14. When I would emerge from my warm cocoon of my bed each morning, my mother would announce, “Here comes the bitch!” She often recounts my birth in similar terms, as the “worst day of her life.”
    I have gained much empathy for others, especially my own children, through my personal experience of verbal abuse, which is only becoming more and more apparent upon reflecting on my own parental style in juxtaposition.

    Liked by 1 person

  15. Wow, what a horrible burden for a child. I can’t imagine calling a child any name let alone a “bitch” and a parent telling a child their birth is the “worst day of their life” is unconscionable. The more I learn of others experiences growing up the more I realize how lucky I was. I have only just skimmed your blog and I can’t wait to read more. It looks like you took your negative experiences and turned it around so that you are an amazing parent.

    Liked by 1 person

  16. I am reparenting myself as I go 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  17. Pingback: The Couple That Lays Together, Stays Together? | Dancing Echoes

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