Where to start...
I was born on a Monday afternoon...
My mom tells me every year about my birth story. There are many interesting parts, but I think the most telling part of the story is the moment she knew for sure that they did not switch babies and I was, in fact, hers. Apparently we have this cute little quirk where our hiccups are nice and dramatic, equipped with what sounds like a burp. Adorable, I know. These 'hiccu-burp's haunt me at least twice a year.
Another one of my favorite parts of the story is when my Bubbe (yiddish for grandmother) found out she was in the hospital, found my mother's room and barged her way in. To this day, my mom is not sure how Bubbe found her, but that's classic Bub'. I believe she even offered snacks to the delivering doctor because he "looked tired". Bubbe was a teeny woman that you did not want to cross. She raised children in New York City, making great use of her elbows on the subways... if you know, you know...
Last part of my birth-story I'll share is that I was absolutely not interested in emerging from her womb. I had to be retrieved via c-section 9 days after her due date. My parents did not know my gender, and when my father held me over my mother, he did so upside down. Don't know if that is important to most mom's, but I hear it almost every year so... there's that.
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