Every year I have to share the story of my birth because I'm intrigued by the fact that no one knows my real birthday - it could have been yesterday or it could be today.
My mother was having some troubles at the time she was pregnant with me, and no one but my father and their priest knew that they were expecting a baby. At the time my dad was a welder at E.B. When she went into labor she called and asked them to please tell him to come home and take her to the hospital. Whoever answered the phone never gave my dad the message.
My mom waited but of course her labor got worse and worse. She finally called an ambulance. She waited and waited and the ambulance never showed up. Finally, she delivered me by herself on the living room couch. This was before portable phones so she got up with me still attached, went to the phone, and called the fire department. They arrived, cut the cord, delivered the afterbirth, etc, and put us in their ambulance. As we were leaving for the hospital the first ambulance she called finally showed up.
My dad didn't know what had happened until he arrived home and walked into the living room to discover the entire couch covered with blood (he claims that's why his hair is gray at the temples) and a little note from the fire fighters saying his wife and daughter were at the hospital.
We arrived at the hospital, were received, and I was finally declared "born" at 1:20 am on August 1, 1974.
So, over the years I've tried for double birthdays and double gifts, but strangely enough, my mom has never gone for it.
