The story of me...

Well, I have thought long and hard about this assignment and the only birthing experience that I can write about would have to be my own.  I have never witnessed a birth and nor have I ever had any children.  So, therefore, here is the story of how I entered the world from my mother’s point of view.

In October on 1982, my father told my mother that she was pregnant.  They had been anxiously awaiting my arrival.  They had two boys already and had been planning and praying for a baby girl.  Ultrasounds were only used for complicated births back then, so my parents had no idea what my sex would be.  My mom said she knew in her heart, it was going to be a girl so she painted the nursery pink and yellow, and began buying girl clothes.  She made a bet with some friends that if she was right they would buy more girl things upon my arrival, which she later won.

As my father was military, they were currently stationed in Germany.  I was born in Osnabruck, Germany.  The closest hospital was an hour and fifteen minutes away.  Whereas, in the United States of America a hospital may have been ten or fifteen minutes down the road.  My mom said that the pregnancy was very hard.  She was constantly in pain and always throwing up.  She could not leave the house freely as she could with my older brothers, because she needed to stay close to the toilet.  She could keep nothing down.  Her favorite food was Strawberry spaghetti ice.  It was a German type of ice cream that came out of the machine like spaghetti noodles and had strawberries on top.  Her favorite thing to do was sleep the day away.

Mom ended up having a scheduled Cesarean Section with me.  She got to pick the date of my birth.  Of course, dad was unable to go into the delivery room; which through the research from the textbook says it could have made it an easier process if he was present in the room.  The only difference is that she needed a translator in the room because she did not speak German.  Mom always tells people upon my arrival I was carried throughout the hospital because the doctor had never delivered a “chocolate baby”.  She carried me from room to room so everyone could see the new chocolate baby.  My mom did not tell family members of my arrival until two weeks after I was born for her own personal reasons. 

I choose this example because it was the only birth that I could relate, as I had seen no other.  I like the fact that my birth place was Germany, because it makes me feel special. Also, this birth was not the normal birth because she had to get a Cesarean Section.  Although, I did ask her did she get an epidural, but I guess there was really no need for it since she was going to be put to sleep anyway.  Also, I asked her how long the process was but she could not remember.  She only knows that I was born at 9:07 am.  Every year she calls me at 9:07 am to tell me happy birthday as well.  I am just as thankful for her as she is for me.