Meme, Happy Birth Story!!

It’s now 26 days until my birthday. For me, this is a big day. I don’t know whether the world can chalk it up to narcissistic perspective, or because I am finally learning that life is as precious as our first breath. Socially, I doubt I should be so enamored with my own birth. Here I am, enamored. And I think you should be too… um, not with mine, but your own. No matter how many people share your birth date or how many lives you get to live, this path you are on now will never be lived again… Even if you live a thousand times as the person you are, you will never do it the same again. How precious then, is each moment, each life we live?

Of course, who am I to say this? Where is my justification? Sure my favorite poet is Rumi, but who am I to embrace such mystic love for living? Um, am I DSM-IV-TR diagnosable? Damn, this summer class!

Yet, here I am, telling anyone who reads…embrace your birthday. Love it, as though it is the essence of your self. In the community you share with others, build a foundation where your birth date is a celebration! Celebrate! Now, I have the fortitude of living in an individualistic society where the individual is celebrated. I also have friends who will embrace this celebration as much as I celebrate theirs. I believe though, that the community and the individual can live in continuity – the one forming to be self as well as participating with the whole. I rely on the idea that in our futures this balance will exist for all. So, as I try and build a better future for the community, I also take the time and expression to celebrate my birth and who I am as an individual. Yeah! So, as a celebration for this one path…this one moment this GoGo is and never will be again…I share with you my birth story…I hope the reader takes the time to think about his/her/his&her/her&his own story and share it too! So, Cheers to us and the singularity of one path that leads us to heaven/hell or more journeys to come, and (AS ALWAYS) effects the community as a whole!

The Birth Story:

We all have one, whether the story is the absence of the birth story or a full fledge rendition of the details of our birth. The absence has just as much effect on our psyches as does the full frontal details. How many of us know the minutes, hours, days it took for us to come into this world? How many of us wish we did? How many of us have heard the words, “I gave birth to you?” From the various friends around the world, I believe that statement may be universal, able to be translated into all languages, or in those subtle communal understandings never really spoke of, but are expected. Why? Because to date, we all come from our Mother’s womb. Absent, present, or somewhere in between, mothers are instrumental to our creation, our formation, and our births into this world. I heard it last week, when my Mom called to let me know how much she loved me. Her expression of love was justified from birth, "I love you because I gave birth to you". Now, that’s a powerful justification.

My birth story is as dramatic as my words betray me to be. From my Father’s mouth, my birth story goes like this – I was born a breech (that is, buttocks first), wanting the world to kiss my a$$. Yes, that’s right. From the minute I came into this world, the first thing seen was my aSS! For my Dad, it meant for the rest of my life I would be equated with Florence from the TV show Alice’s Restaurant, and when in doubt…the world could kiss my rosy pink cheeks. What power in that birth myth! I mean, baby got back, but she also gets the rest of the world kissing it!

From my Mum, it’s a little more detailed. First and foremost, I was always loved. Words told to me at my hardest points in life, when I never wanted to hear the words, and when I came out to my family. I was always loved. Thanks, Mom! It took 45 minutes for me to come out. Because the umbilical CORD was wrapped around my neck, possibly killing me or leaving me with brain damage, the Doctor was concerned and he did not want to try and turn me. AND because of my mother’s ability to POP out children, there wasn’t time to do a C-section. Now, after all this was said and done, there was also the fact that I was conceived on birth control! Yep, not only did I come out with the cord around my neck, possibly ending my life before it began, a$$ first in order for the world to apply their lips (which cheek depended on preference), but also I was a part of the .01% risk you take when shagging with the pill. Let this be a lesson, it can happen to you.

Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. I was also born 1 year and 5 months after my older brother was born. This means my Mum conceived me on the pill 9 months after giving birth to the older Bro. I don’t think anyone could blame her for having her tube’s tide the DAY AFTER I was born, which was also told with common occurrence as was the part where the world kisses my grits.

Oh, but it doesn’t stop here. Then there was the part about my paternal Gma (the one who was THE MATRIARCH OF THE FAMILY) who was angry with my Mother because she conceived me too soon after my brother. Apparently, this was a sore subject between the two that never got resolved when my gma died. If you’re wondering, yes, the little girl in me felt responsible to resolve this issue. But it doesn’t stop there. I was also 3-4 weeks early. My Mum was not only fertile, but I was hard pressed to be born.

To summarize, I was conceived on birth control; my older brother was 9 months old at conception; I came against my gma’s will a month early with the cord around my neck, and to add it all, I came out bottom first. [Insert the world and lips here.]

PRESSURE ON! As a kid, I didn’t know if I was a middle finger OR a pious destiny offered by God. Now, I like to think I am a mix of both...without the pious existence. My youthful interpretation was I had to prove I was supposed to be here against all the odds.

And here I am almost 30-turns-around the sun! This is my birth story. This myth has followed me around the sun and to the place I am at now. I have hated the birth story, loved the birth story, and wondered if I should share it at all. Here I am though, 26 days away from my birth date and I am grateful to be born…to have my own story, and to my parent’s who offered me my birth story that molded my path. What does that mean? It means, today, if you choose to read this page, you get to hear about my birth story….and…

what’s the word for it…a meme? If you read this, I tag you to tell the world…what is your birth story? Please tell it in celebration of your self! If you so choose without pressure or obligation.

Happy Birth Story!

The birth date is July 15th, smack dab in the middle of summer.