My Journey to Life

I vividly remember that day as if it engraved in my memory of its details. Point by point, part by part, I can just stare at blank now and see the whole picture again of how I came about to life. Perhaps, it was because of my longing for physical freedom, my yearning for emotional maturity, and anyway, what kind of a name is a fetus? I wanted a proper name, to be my own person, who's free of physical attachment from my mother's womb, free from her moody emotions since having me when I was a 3 month old fetus. But then again who wouldn't be moody, when another human being is inside, growing and wanting to be out as soon as possible? I wanted to be able to see, to be treated as a respectable person. I had to get out of there!
The womb was claustrophobically suffocating. Tried as my mother did, she could not provide the comfort that I really needed. I needed air! I needed to see the sun light! I needed to feel the slightly twirling wind that, somehow, mysteriously moved the window curtains as if there was a force behind it. Of course, my mother tells me about these things every day. Funnily, I'd been with my mother for almost 9 months now, yet I hadn't had a chance to see her face. There were also my father, my grandpa and grandma, my aunt, and uncles that I really wanted to see. My parents started talking to me even before I became a fetus. As I became more aware of my surroundings, Mom and Dad would comfort me by their loving words, tender pampering, and some really, really good food. I was hungry every day, and my mother just knew what to feed.
On a typical evening of summer 2002, the eve to the Father's Day, my parents were playing games on the computer as my uncle was watching a movie on the home entertainment set. It wasn't hot that night, in fact it was cool with a summer breeze. All of a sudden I felt this urge to get out; my biological clock was chiming, telling me that now was the time. I was more than ecstatic. "Oh, joy at last!" I kept saying to myself, "please be the time. Let it be the time!”
My mother started having contractions, which were coming in cycles of 5 minutes. I heard the panicking voices of my father, of my uncle, and just a little bit after, of my grandparents. Out of all of the commotions, I could hear my father said: "her water broke." Only then I knew for sure that I was coming out. The panicking kept on going. My father was trying to gather himself and to put some of the necessary utilities and paperwork together so that we could be on the way to the hospital. "Great! This is one of the greatest days in my life, and this is how they have prepared for it" I chuckled.
Despite all of the hysteria, at 1:30 a.m. we managed to get to Muhlenberg Regional Hospital, where we were promptly greeted and accommodated by the medical staff. Ten minutes later, my mother was wheel chaired into a cool room with a staff of nurses, whose care for us was impeccable. There we were asked questions about the contractions, the health conditions of my mother and were waiting for the attending obstetrician to come. While I was engulfed in the anxiousness of anticipation, my mother was in obvious, excruciating pain. It was so intense that she was trembling and screaming as my father helplessly tried to comfort both of us. Tried very hard, as I did, I couldn’t contain my own excitement to alleviate my mother’s pain. In fact, the pain that a mother experiences, when in labor, comes from the exultation of the physical activities by the child within. People or even doctors might not know this, but I do, since I could feel what mother was going through. I just couldn’t help myself!
The doctor came finally. He was calm, cool, and comforting. He reassured my mother and father that everything was going to be fine. "This is nuts!" I thought, "Why wouldn't things be ok?" "This is the defining moment of my life. I am coming out!" He then proceeded with his duty. It was pretty impressive of how he orchestrated the nursing staff to make the whole procedure as fast and as errorless as possible. He began to coach my mother to push and to steady her breathing pattern. I was doing my own part. I was trying to push outward towards the direction that my body was heading to as hard as I could. My mother's conditions worsened, her heavy panting accompanied by painful screams. "Poor mother! She had carried me for nearly nine months, now she's going through this,” I thought to myself. It was intense!
"Congratulations! It's a healthy, beautiful baby boy" the doctor said. Oh, wow! I was out finally. I cried and heard my cry for the first time. Perhaps, I cried because I didn't know how to laugh, or I cried because all of the efforts that had been put forth really paid off. Being held captive in a womb for 9 months was not funny. No offense, Mom. But the agonies of being in the dark, the disinformation of what was going around me were not at all my idea of fun, and how life should be. Anyhow, I just wanted to scream on the top of my lung to absorb that feeling of ultimate freedom. I flung my limbs in the air, and they were unobstructed. “Oh, freedom at last!” “Oh, wait!” “How come everything is black and white as I see for the first time!” My mother had told me that things were in vivid colors. The more I looked and experimented with my bodily functions, the more confused I became. My mother and father held me in their arms, told me how beautiful I was and kept reminding me that everything was going to be all right. I looked at my mother for the first time, she was very, very beautiful, tired, but beautiful. My father looked proud and happy. He appeared joyful, eager, and more alert than mother. Though confused, I was comforted in the presence of my parents. Something had never changed! The moment was clocked at 4:28 AM, Sunday the 16th of June 2002. "It was the best Father Day gift that any father could have hoped for", so my father said.
I did not get to stay with my family for long. At night, I was transferred to an area specifically reserved for newborns. Here I was surrounded with baby girls. "Surrounded by flocks of chicks already, aren't you something?" My uncle proudly said with a little humor. In the morning I had talked to my uncle and he reminded me that I was a boy, which meant that I was not one of them, chicks. I did not know the significance of being a boy or being a chick then nor do I now. But according to my uncle, I don't want to be a chick, but I do need one when I grow older.
The next day was a normal routine at the hospital. Nurses came in and out attending to my needs and my mother's. They were always warm, gentle, and caring around us. The doctor came to give some kind words and instructions on what and how to do at home in caring for me. We also learned that we were coming home the next day. "Ah, home! There, I'll be able to witness first hand the mysterious wind that moves the curtains, to see the sun light that shines through our bedroom windows every morning, to play with the cat that occasionally comes to visit us." I couldn't wait!


Written for my baby nephew Kenneth HoangKhang

Trang Chính
Văn | Thơ | Nhạc | Tác Giả