PORCH SWING STORIES by Amanda Polaski: You say it?s your birthday?

Everyone I know has a story, and usually those stories begin on the day of their birth. According to the birthday cake I consumed last night, the beginning of my story commenced this week 32 years ago. Every birthday that goes by, I have flashbacks of the birthdays before. Most of my memories of early birthdays come from photographs pasted in aging albums. Me holding up a fistful of dollar bills, a large smile spread across my face. Me with lips pouted blowing out one candle from the top of a mountainous angel food cake. Me posing with my five closest friends for a Polaroid after celebrating with cheeseburgers and ice cream at McDonald?s. Each year I grew one year older, and each year I was reminded of how the story of me began. The story always stayed the same, and it always sounded as wonderful to my ears as the first time I heard it.

So, in celebration of that beginning, I asked my mom to tell it to me for the 32nd time. She lovingly obliged, and it was just as I ?remembered.? It was in the early morning hours of January 17, 1975 and my mom was feeling some twinges. She was nine months and three weeks pregnant ? I was holding on for dear life in there, and I wasn?t coming out for anybody ? not even my poor, petite mother. My mom always explains how she was getting my brother, Steve, ready for school. She scrambled him some eggs, buttered his toast, and hurried him (as usual, she says) across the street to catch his ride. My mom then returned to dress my sister, Sarah, in order to take her over to my aunt?s house. By this time, contractions were five minutes apart, and mom was almost certain this was the big moment. Upon arrival at the local hospital (which no longer exists), she was plopped into a wheelchair and whisked away, while my dad registered at the front desk.

At that time, there had not been a New Year?s baby born in Rogers City yet, so mom thought my reason for having such a tight grip on the womb was because I was holding out for all the prizes and glory. Little did she know ? I was just a nervous wreck with a case of stage fright. In the labor room, my mom was told there was a need for an X-ray, and she was asked if she had ever had a breach birth. Her answer was no, but after the X-ray was complete, she was told she was about to change that answer. I?m not sure how breach births are handled now, but I?m suspecting it would be a much different experience for my mom had it been 30 years later. She was told it would be a long time before I was born, and ten hours later, I hadn?t budged a bit. My mom said she remembers the doctor coming in to examine her one last time. He pulled back the covers to expose her large belly covered completely with X?s made with black magic marker. When I envision this part in my mind?s eye, I imagine the doctor with a black patch over one eye, pulling back the covers with his hook hand, and becoming very confused. If the ?X? marks the spot where the treasure was buried, then there was a lot of treasure in my mom?s pregnant belly.

Finally at 11 p.m., the good doctor made the decision for a C-section birth. My mom was wheeled to the operating room, and all she remembers is s

omeone saying what a big baby she had ? all cramped into her 96-pound frame. I weighed 9 pounds, 4 ounces, and was 23 inches in length. My mom awoke from the whole ordeal about three days later surrounded by flowers. She thought she had died and lay in her casket before she realized where she was. I was reportedly a good baby ? sleeping through the entire night my first time home. Obviously, I needed a good nap after the stressful experience of birth. The restful sleep didn?t last long. Not soon after arriving home, I was introduced to my sister. My mom said she always believed my first words would be ?Sarah, don?t!?

Some things about me that haven?t changed since birth: I?m still a nervous wreck, and at times I suffer from cases of stage fright. I still usually have trouble confronting ?danger? headfirst ? I usually back into it butt first, just in case I have to quickly escape back to safety. I still really, really enjoy a good, long nap ? and I have no problem sleeping through the entire night. I still weigh nine pounds, four ounces ? multiplied by 32 years. And, last but not least, I still have trouble with being on time for the big prize and all the glory ? I was beat out for the New Year?s baby in 1975 by not just one baby, but two. Happy Birthday to them ? wherever they may be.

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