Birthing a baby is hard work.  Birthing a baby is a miraculous event.  Birthing a baby is exactly what I did many years ago today ~ 32 years to be exact.  and daggummit if the attending nurse didn’t write down, supposedly verbatim with quotation marks and all, one of my last utterances spewed out at the top of my lungs “I don’t care if it’s a monkey, get it out of me!!”  Now why that freaking nurse wrote that down for all time memorial, who can fathom.  But before you judge me too harshly to be a heartless woman, please may I remind you that I was a 19 year-old young almost mother who was giving childbirth in the euphemistcally called “natural” method.  All that really means is a vaginal birth WITHOUT pain medications of any kind.  Before any of you start thinking that I was a highly responsible almost mother who chose this natural method, sans drugs, to preserve the integrity of the birthing experience and to not contanimate my offspring, I must sadly disabuse you of this generous assumption.  No, I chose this WITHOUT pain meds of any kind experience because I was young and dumb and without the financial means to BUY said drugs. 

Having whined all of that, I must add to the birthing myth that all of the horrible excruciating, mind numbing, torture of childbirth does indeed immediately take a backseat (but never, obviously, leaves the memories of the birther) the moment I laid eyes on the birthed one ~ my daughter.  She was, and remains, GORGEOUS  beautiful   lovely  simply extravagently and poetically stunning. 

And this baby  tiny infant of mine is now 32 years of age.  How can this be?  Where did the years go?  and how could they have passed so quickly?  so rapidly?  honestly.  It must be magic.  or a cosmic joke.  For it is true.  I can remember distinctly the moment, the second that my eyes lit upon her dark grey eyes (which eventually turned a rich dark brown) and her mass of black hair (which too eventually turned a rich dark brown) in her petite GORGEOUS face.  What I did next, I cannot explain, could not explain even then.  I counted, one at a time, each of this new being’s fingers and each of her tiny tiny little toes.  There were 2 thumbs and 8 fingers and 10 toes, making a grand total of 20 digits. 

I love this daughter of mine.  I did in that moment.  and I most certainly do in this exact moment on her special birth date.  and oh by the way, I am very very glad that I gave birth to a human Goddess and not a monkey.  I can guarantee you that I am grateful for this fact.  Nothing against monkeys.  But in my book and my life, my lovely baby girl teen young woman and now maturing Princess is price-less.

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