Six o’clock in the morning. March 19th, 2002. Fourteen years ago, my mother was rushed to the nearest hospital, she was going into labor. When she arrived, the doctor gave the news that her first child would be one of her greatest challenges yet. I had twisted and turned so much that the umbilical cord had tightened around my neck and arm. Who would have thought that the one thing that brought me food and oxygen, the source of my very life, could also have been the thing that killed me?
An unfamiliar voice told my mother, “I need to inform you that your child will not be able to get out on her own. The only solution you have is surgery. Unless you want to wait for the best?”
There was a long pause, and my mother's voice replied “I’ll wait.” After a long period of time the waiting became unbearable and time stretched on for hours. I dived into an abyss as I began to lose the ability to breath, my heart started to slow, and a darkness wrapped around me. I was going to die before I had begun to live. To be or not to be, I could have made a decision then and there. After all, I didn’t know what waited for me in the unknown world outside. Was it worth trying? As I began to close my eyes, I hear these words, “Be brave little one.”
I opened my small eyes.
Whoever had said those words so sweetly had given me the reassurance and willpower to continue. After fifteen hours of long medical procedures, my mother finally held me in her arms. She looked at me and I glanced at her, “You did it little one.” She held me so close that I knew it was worth it, I wasn’t going to live for nothing. Tenderly, she kissed my forehead and rocked me slowly.
I closed my eyes, and fell asleep at last.