The miracle of life strikes a chord
DAD rang Thursday night. We did the usual catch-up.
And then I started talking about this weekend's cover yarn.
Reporter Rebecca Davis has interviewed a local family whose little girl was born premature.
The story struck a chord with my Dad. My birth was also traumatic.
I was born on time. But I wasn't breathing.
Dad said he was scared beyond belief.
Mum needed to be induced. She was given the drugs. But it all happened too soon.
I started to come out. And as I was breech, my feet and body came out first.
Mum's body thought the job was done. Her cervix clamped down around my neck.
The doctor had to wrench me out. I was blue.
The crash cart was rushed in. Two minutes later I sucked in my first breath.
Dad said it was the longest two minutes of his life.
Then he cracked a funny - a joke I've heard countless times.
Apparently the doctors told my parents I would have brain damage.
And that the full extent would take at least 18 months to assess.
"We're still waiting!" Dad quipped...again.
He made up for it with what he said next:
"Baby, it's just a miracle you are who you are."
Thanks, Daddy-o. I love you too.