I almost entered this world in a toilet. Wow! I can't believe that was the first sentence ever posted on a blog about me. Oh well, I guess it's always best to start at the beginning and tell the truth. My mom was 17 when she gave birth to me. Naturally, she told me that I was not an accidental pregnancy and I was totally planned. As a young child, this was a comfort because all children desperately want to be wanted, right? As a budding teenager, I realized that couldn't possibly be the plan for any self respecting girl, my mom made a stupid mistake and I was really glad that she made it.
So back to the toilet, my mom didn't have insurance because her parent's insurance wouldn't cover prenatal care or delivery of me (I still don't think insurance companies do that) and apparently back then teenagers couldn't have free babies on some state sponsored program. So my mom sold Avon and magazine subscriptions to family, friends and church members in order to pay for my delivery at some clinic (which is now a grocery store). I really admire her for that, I mean, I don't think many a teenage girl would get knocked up if they knew they'd have to walk their pregnant asses door to door and sell enough roll on deodorant and TV Guide subscriptions to get prenatal care and have their baby in a hospital instead of at home. (nothing against homebirth, so don't even bother).
You may be asking yourself, "Where was your father during all of this?" Ah, well after my parents had a romantic summer of love and discovery (and eventual pregnancy) my dad went back to his home turf. Yeah, he was a jackass, but more on that later.
So my mom had worked all fall and winter and saved enough money to pay her medical bills in advance, go mom! About a month before my arrival, my father returned and did what any man with an ounce of will to live (my grandpa is kinda bad ass) would do, he married my mom.
I swear, we're getting back to the toilet now. So on a Monday in Mid-March, I decided my mom's current accommodations were too cramped and decided to bust outta that joint. Of course, she didn't know what to expect so she when to the bathroom...again...and again....and again. For some reason that she couldn't understand she just couldn't shit. This apparently went on for an hour or two while my dad was at work. After not being able to produce a bowel movement, she did what anyone in my family does when they can't crap...she called my grandmother. (A LOT MORE on that later).
My grandmother, having birthed two children, said "I'm on my way, you're having a baby!"
After much convincing, my mom was in my grandma's Thunderbird barreling down bumpy county roads. My mom couldn't afford to have me in "the nice hospital" or even "the close hospital" so instead of a 20 minute drive to the hospital, she had to be driven about 40 minutes away. We got there, called my dad and checked in, dad arrived...push, push, push (literally) and I was flushed the hell outta there. (More on THAT later!)
I don't remember much about that day but I do remember thinking "This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in the most peculiar way and the stars look very different today." Nah, that's not true but if birthing plans, iPods and posh deliveries were a fad back then I hope that my mom would have been a cool enough teenager to insist that Space Oddity be played as I made my grand entrance. Ugh who am I kidding, I'd have probably been birthed to Heart's latest single.
Thanks for reading, I really needed to get that off my chest.
