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:
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?