A conversation with Mom reminded me of something I’d forgotten or misheard: I should have been born at the beginning of July. I’d assumed for a while that I’d been ten weeks premature. No, no. Twelve weeks. Three months. I was six months in the womb when Mom started her contractions (incompetent cervix; my almost-brother had been even earlier). It’s… kind of hit me harder now that I know about those other two weeks. There’s a huge difference between twenty-four weeks and twenty-six weeks when you’re a fetus.
I had oxygen deprivation and hyaline membrane disease and cerebral palsy. In 1979, they didn’t have surfactants, and some of my roommates in the NICU preemie ward didn’t make it or were badly damaged. If it were not for the talents, skills, and powers at Coney Island Hospital, I would not be here.
Well.
On Monday, I enter a whole new decade.
Thirty years ago on Monday, at 11:58 PM, I survived.
Have a lovely weekend, friends. I know I will.
I had oxygen deprivation and hyaline membrane disease and cerebral palsy. In 1979, they didn’t have surfactants, and some of my roommates in the NICU preemie ward didn’t make it or were badly damaged. If it were not for the talents, skills, and powers at Coney Island Hospital, I would not be here.
Well.
On Monday, I enter a whole new decade.
Thirty years ago on Monday, at 11:58 PM, I survived.
Have a lovely weekend, friends. I know I will.