my mother told me that i was a gigantic baby. she showed me pictures and gave me waaay to many details about the 23 hours of labor she went through to release me. you see, my mother looked very much like a twig when she became pregnant with me. 9 months and 40 kilograms later, the twig had blossomed into a trunk. if you ask her, “blossom” is not the right word. i will spare you further details – it´s enough if i am scarred for life.
anyways, after what must have felt like an eternity, the baby (moi) was there. it was 1981 in romania so my parents had had no idea if it was going to be a boy or a girl.
my mother was very pleased with my gender, she had already bought earrings and decided on the name ahead of time.
my father had concerns. according to my mother, his first words after hearing that his first born was indeed a girl that weighed 4,2kg were “i would have preferred 2 boys of 2 kg each”.
this, my mother was less pleased with. also, i am told that up until i was 1 year old, my maternal grandmother who practically raised me (see grandma i still think of you) checked regularly to see if i hadn´t magically turned into a boy.
now, in my father´s defense, he likes to make jokes and he doesn´t take life seriously at all. he may have passed on that gene, methinks.
and in my grandmother´s defense, she was old-fashioned and really wanted a grandson since she already had another granddaughter. this didn´t stop her from loving me and spoiling the crap out of me up until her last breath. she also swore like a sailor. ah, i have to write about my grandmother some day.
and in my mother´s defense, i grew up believing that i am the equivalent of 2 boys. hashtag feminism or what?