Baby stories
Today is my birthday so it seemed appropriate to share one of my baby stories. I have no idea if this story is true but my mother has repeated it verbatim so often I’ve come to believe her.
My parents lived in Chicago but my mother insisted on birthing her firstborn with her mother nearby. My grandparents lived in Mexico right at the Texas border. The plan was to shuttle my mother across the border as soon as labor started so I could be born an American citizen. (good thinking, guys)
As per my nature I jolted my mother awake very, very early on the morning of March 28. Labor didn’t last long and I was out within a few hours. I was tiny, so small that my “helpful” relatives whispered that I wouldn’t survive. They gathered together to offer support.
To their amazement I survived the first week. (silly people, they didn’t know who they were dealing with) I was not premature but I was way smaller than normal, so the family insisted my mother remain behind even though my father had to return to work in Chicago.
Many weeks went by and by this time my unnatural silence was shattered by persistent crying. Now my poor distraught mother was certain something was wrong with me. With tears in her eyes she brought me to yet another pediatrician for help. The doc examined me at length and finally laid me back down on the table. Mom says he studied me for a bit and then extended both his index fingers to either side of me.
She says at that moment I stopped crying and focused directly on the doc's face then latched on to each index finger with my tiny hands. It took all her courage not to cry out when the doc lifted me straight off the examining table. I held on to him, my eyes boring into him like an eagle on prey (her words).
According to the story he held me up in midair for several seconds. He laid me down again then put me back into my mother’s arms. The doctor insisted there was nothing wrong with me. But she was to quit nursing and put me on whole cow’s milk. I was to eat as much as I wanted regardless what the other “experts” advised. He was certain I was just hungry.
--Now there could be some truth to that. I’ve been known to put up quite a fuss when I’m not fed regularly.
Anyway, my mother did as she was told and switched me to whole milk. And I went back to being my naturally quiet self. Never did put on much size but evidently I make up for that with true grit.
I always liked that story. Sometimes I think I’ve been hanging in midair ever since. It’s been a heck of a ride so far.
Today: I don’t know what Greg has planned for me. He’s been unusually mum which always raises my radar. Whatever it is it should be low key. I can’t be up for more than a few minutes at a time anyway.
Most of my recuperation has been spent watching the Stargate series dvd's. Evidently, they don't start getting interesting until season 6. They still have some serious logic flaws that drive me batty but I've learned to like most of the characters.
My parents lived in Chicago but my mother insisted on birthing her firstborn with her mother nearby. My grandparents lived in Mexico right at the Texas border. The plan was to shuttle my mother across the border as soon as labor started so I could be born an American citizen. (good thinking, guys)
As per my nature I jolted my mother awake very, very early on the morning of March 28. Labor didn’t last long and I was out within a few hours. I was tiny, so small that my “helpful” relatives whispered that I wouldn’t survive. They gathered together to offer support.
To their amazement I survived the first week. (silly people, they didn’t know who they were dealing with) I was not premature but I was way smaller than normal, so the family insisted my mother remain behind even though my father had to return to work in Chicago.
Many weeks went by and by this time my unnatural silence was shattered by persistent crying. Now my poor distraught mother was certain something was wrong with me. With tears in her eyes she brought me to yet another pediatrician for help. The doc examined me at length and finally laid me back down on the table. Mom says he studied me for a bit and then extended both his index fingers to either side of me.
She says at that moment I stopped crying and focused directly on the doc's face then latched on to each index finger with my tiny hands. It took all her courage not to cry out when the doc lifted me straight off the examining table. I held on to him, my eyes boring into him like an eagle on prey (her words).
According to the story he held me up in midair for several seconds. He laid me down again then put me back into my mother’s arms. The doctor insisted there was nothing wrong with me. But she was to quit nursing and put me on whole cow’s milk. I was to eat as much as I wanted regardless what the other “experts” advised. He was certain I was just hungry.
--Now there could be some truth to that. I’ve been known to put up quite a fuss when I’m not fed regularly.
Anyway, my mother did as she was told and switched me to whole milk. And I went back to being my naturally quiet self. Never did put on much size but evidently I make up for that with true grit.
I always liked that story. Sometimes I think I’ve been hanging in midair ever since. It’s been a heck of a ride so far.
Today: I don’t know what Greg has planned for me. He’s been unusually mum which always raises my radar. Whatever it is it should be low key. I can’t be up for more than a few minutes at a time anyway.
Most of my recuperation has been spent watching the Stargate series dvd's. Evidently, they don't start getting interesting until season 6. They still have some serious logic flaws that drive me batty but I've learned to like most of the characters.
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