Because Babies Grow Up

My parents found themselves unexpectedly preparing for a baby’s arrival. They had not been planning on having a baby. At least not just yet. But they also found themselves filled with joy and a desire for this baby to join their family. When my mom went to the doctor the first time and they discussed the due date, he came up with some day at the end of April. My mom said something like, “Oh that’s close to my birthday which is April 28th.” At which point the doctor said something like, “Well, then, April 28th it is.” And wrote it down as the official due date.

Time passed and the baby grew bigger and bigger. My mom drove a zippy little sports car at the time. One day she drove into the grocery store parking lot and caught the eyes of most of the guys getting into or out of their cars. As she parked they all seemed to wait breathlessly to see the hot chick who would emerge from such a fantastic car. She lumbered and struggled and finally emerged, her and all eight and a half months of me. Suddenly all the guys turned away quickly and awkwardly. Mom went home that day and told my dad they were selling the car.

At a doctor’s visit near the end of the pregnancy it was discovered that I was breech. Frank breech, to be more specific. The doctor said they would perform a c-section since delivering a baby’s bum first was not a formula for success. He offered her two dates and she snatched the sooner one. Hence my May 3rd birthday. The surgery went fine; I was healthy; and my mom eventually recovered. She said it took a long time for her to feel like herself again. After two regular pregnancies and births, I can only imagine how difficult it would be to recover from a c-section. I have always loved the scar on her tummy from where they pulled me out. But I appreciate even more now how moms sacrifice their bodies for their babies.

At some point during the pregnancy my parents were eating dinner at JB Big Boy’s hamburger restaurant. They were situated where they could see this adorable little girl that was being so cute. Her mom called her Amber and they thought it was a cute name and a cute little girl. They decided if I was a girl they would name me Amber.

So I was born on May 3rd and my name is Amber. What’s your story?

This story is linked up with Mommy’s Piggy TALES where you can tell your own life story in 15 posts over 15 weeks. Won’t you join us?