My Birth Day and Who I Am
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My mom often told me a story about the day I was born, February 1st. The story was that she had been in labor for over 24 hours (I think) and she was eager to get it moving (she’s an impatient person). Worse yet, it was 10 pm and Groundhog Day was looming. As I heard it, she was very determined that I NOT be born on Groundhog Day — I must admit that I’m thankful for that! I would definitely not want to be stuck in an infinite loop of my birthday forever. So, according to her, by sheer force of will, I was born at 10:25 pm on February 1st.
The story continues that as soon as she saw me, she cried out: “Dorothy!” That’s my birth name, but my chosen name is Dee. The doctor says: “Well, I guess you’re going to move to Kansas now!” My mom, having just experienced childbirth with an epidural is rather confused by this assumption. Understandably, I’d say. It seems a little crass to make a joke over a woman in her most vulnerable position, in an altered state of…
