Under What Sign Were You Born?

Mine was "AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY - Labor Room."  I was born in 1949 in what they lovingly referred to as the Labor Room.   We never quite made it to the Delivery Room.  I heard this story often from my mother.  It was generally told at every child's birthday despite the fact that it was not their story.

Mom went into labor and was taken to the hospital.  They strapped her into the gurney, wheeled her into the labor room.  Then they walked out and left her because they said it would be awhile.  Next thing she knows, I'm peeking out trying to figure out what's going on.  I mean everything was fine as it was.  Now I am being squeezed and pushed and there seems to be a light (whatever that is) at the end of the tunnel (like I said before, whatever that is).  This is my first moment on the job and I have no idea what all this is.

My mother told me all sorts of gruesome details about how I busted everything wide open because I was escaping regardless of who was or was not there.  Apparently I was as determined then as I am now if not more so.

Anyone who says they remember the instant of their birth is either exaggerating or He has not talked to me about it yet.  That has to be the most traumatic moment.  Why would I want to remember it?

There I am.  All warm and cozy and secure.  I am never hungry.  I can suck my thumbs whenever I want to.  I am rocked and held all day.  Life is good.

Not bad for 6 weeks old.

Then it happens.  I get squeezed out like toothpaste from a tube; like someone stepping on a ketchup pack.  There I am.  The lights are too bright.  People are talking to loud.  Some crazy person held me upside down and sucked out my nose and mouth and then had the bright idea to smack me on the behind.  They poked me, prodded me, measured me, tagged me and cleaned me.  Then they wrapped me up like a sausage and handed me to this weird thing called mom who is crying and unwrapping me, counting my fingers and toes and squealing, "She's so cute!"  Actually, what she said was, "Are you sure that's my baby?"  I was born with green eyes, a full head of hair, and the nurses had actually put a bow in my hair.  Mom said I looked like an Eskimo baby.  I don't know that she ever met an Eskimo.

In all fairness, it was getting kind of cramped in there.  Every time I stretched Mom complained.  It was either her back hurt, or she wet her pants, again, or she was eating this junk that gave me gas.  I was really getting kind of tired of hearing all that mess.  Let alone the gas in those cramped quarters.  Can you imagine?

Anyway, here I am.   Still pushing and complaining.  And that is what sign I was born under.