I should expect a weird life. After all, my birth was not exactly normal.
I was almost born on a garage forecourt after my Father who on hearing the baby was coming decided to go into work. Yes, that’s right. He went into work to tell the guys that his baby was on the way and he couldn’t make it to work that day.
While this minor farce was being enacted, my Mother was packing her hospital bag as I was making my appearance early. Did my Mum phone my older Sisters to let them know I was coming? Nope, they didn’t even know she was pregnant.
Anyhow, I digress, Dad is now at work celebrating the forthcoming birth with a cigar (he didn’t even smoke) and a drink (whisky). He then headed home to pick up my Mum and take her now puffing and panting to the newly built hospital. Only one small problem. The car was almost out of petrol (it would not have been if he’d not gone to work), not a problem, just fill up on the way. Hence, my almost arriving into this world at the petrol station forecourt. Luckily, there was not a queue for the pumps. Fully fueled, the car, with a woman who was now unable to sit up straight, made it to the hospital.
Now at the hospital, my Father, dashed into the hospital leaving my Mum to manage to haul herself out of the car and to carry her bag into the hospital herself. It seems my Dad had finally got with the programme - I was on the way - and as such he’d panicked. I was after all his first child, my older sisters being from another marriage.
Finally inside the hospital Mum was offered a wheelchair and refused as I was crowning quite well. Even getting on a delivery table was an act of problem solving fit for an engineer. She made it though, into the new delivery room, freshly painted in 1970’s hospital green, on to the table and had a final push. I popped out with my umbilical cord wrapped round my head trying to hang myself rather than stick around. Luckily the Doctors in the hospital weren’t as new as the building, as that was not the only problem to react to. The afterbirth started to break apart rather than come out in one piece. My Mum was at risk of hemorrhaging and dying. Quickly one of the surgeons on the new unit stepped up and manually removed the placenta. This left the green room red. It had to be repainted after my birth. The first baby born in that room; the second in the new hospital. I met the first one, who had shared the crib next to me, 11 years later.
That’s the story of my birth, my arrival into this weird world and my weird life. Quite a memorable day. Baby S, born 5lb 9oz, 24 days premature.
Jun 18 -
Occasionally, someone is born into this world who, through no fault of their own, has a life worth documenting. This is a collection of real life events which have happened to me, which taken as individual events are interesting, but as a group show my life is weird.