Today is anniversary of the day I was born.
According to family legend I was early. Mom and Dad were BOTH transported to the hospital by ambulance that day, Dad because he was having chest pains (oh no, not another heart attack) and Mom because, well, she was giving birth to me.
The three older sibs were at home with Grandma, waiting. This is why they hate me. The pregnancy had been difficult and Mom had already been in the hospital for months. My grandfather wouldn't speak to her. His comment was, "The doctor told you not to get pregnant again. I'll have nothing to do with this child."
She was home for a weekend (on furlough I guess?) when she woke up Sunday morning bleeding ... this was no "my water broke" episode, she was hemorrhaging bad.
An emergency c-section was all they had time to do. The incision was huge and Mom lost her own navel as a result. Later they added a steel plate in her abdomen to help hold her guts in. She had trouble with metal detectors for the rest of her life.
She took it all in stride and even devised a cruel sort of game to play with the grandchildren that went like this: "Your mommy has a belly button, your daddy has a belly button, your cousin Doofus has a bellybutton, Grandma has a ... oh my God! What the hell happened to Grandma's belly button!"
Anyway, happy birthday to me. I miss you Mom.