First Page of My Memoir

On the foggy, chilly morning of February 21, 1949 she wasn’t entirely certain there would be strong, capable hands to catch her as she emerged headfirst into the world from the comfort and safety of her mother’s womb. So instead, she chose to arrive into this unknown atmosphere in a most unconventional manner…feet first. She timidly extended her delicate feet, first one, then the other, her small toes seeking something firm to stand on before she would risk slipping the rest of her tiny self through her mother’s body.

It was a very long, slow process for her and her mother, even though they were both strongly united in their efforts to be free of one another. It was almost midnight when she finally found herself completely free, held securely by the hands of the doctor who was helping with her struggle to be born. She involuntarily filled her lungs with air and then let it out with an explosion of sound, filling the room with her anger, confusion, and relief. Finally, she was here…but she wondered… where the hell was here… how exactly did all this happen…and could someone please tell her…why?

As she cried and fretted over these questions, she felt the fine, shimmering, white “veil of knowing” being lifted from her face with reverence by the attending nurse; and then the remaining traces of her mother’s body fluids were gently scrubbed away with a warm, wet, slightly rough cloth.
After her first bath the doctor held her while listening to her heart and lungs, counting her fingers and toes, and as he placed her into her mother’s arms he looked deeply into her eyes and wished her a long and happy life. It was midnight now, and these two new friends were exhausted. They would begin to get acquainted tomorrow after they had both rested a little while.

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