My mother, several weeks over due woke up to start her day. Usually she would go for a walk with her dad in the morning, but this morning she had a Dr's appointment. Not long after she awoke, still lying in bed, her water broke. When she looked down she realized there was blood in the waters. Not knowing what to do she got up and ran into the bathroom, in the best place she could think of. The bathtub. She called for my dad.
I can only imagine how scary that was. My dad called my nanna, and nanna shot down the street to come and help. Now my mother's standing in the bathtub bleeding, my dad is freaking out, and nanna is cleaning up the 'mess'. Nobody thought to call an ambulance. So my mother, having been raised by the tidiest woman ever, was worried about messing up the car seat. So she grabbed a towel, stuck it between her legs, hopped in the car with my dad and they drove to the hospital.
When they arrived, the staff whisked my mother away while my dad stayed in admitting to register her. They placed a fetal heart monitor on her belly and quickly discovered I was in distress. "We're going to have to do a c-section" they told her. And my father was nowhere to be seen. This is where things get fuzzy for everybody.
They took my mom in, she remembers tasting onions before going under and worrying that it wouldn't work. They preformed an emergency c-section with my dad and nanna waiting in the waiting room, my mother all alone. If I ask my dad, he doesn't remember much, nanna says I was born with the cord wrapped around my neck, not breathing. My mother nearly died from blood loss. They came to find out that my mother had placenta previa, often fatal when not caught. But we were both fighters.
Here I sit today, strong, determined, stubborn some might say, always fighting for the under dog. I wonder where that attitude came from. My mother still wears her scars proudly.
So on my birthday I want to thank my mom and dad for making me who I am. For fighting and being brave, and for taking care of me.