My Happy Birthday (Literally)

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On the subject of my birthday, which just so happens to be today, let me tell you a little something about my birth.

In 1973, my mom’s water broke during the 1st trimester. The doctors were planning a D&C after that weekend, but stopped when they detected a heartbeat using technology that was new at the time. Instead of my life ending that day, a surgery was performed to assist my mom in carrying me as long as possible. She was warned that I still may not make it. She was told that if I did make it I would likely be deformed or experience mental challenges. She was placed on bed rest the remainder of her pregnancy. She prayed for me.

I was born premature because my mother walked up a half flight of stairs to use the restroom, rather than pull my dad from a volleyball game on his birthday. Once I was birthed, I was rushed out of the room to an incubator. About a week later, my parents brought me home. Technically, I’m normal. You can use your own judgment on that though. I don’t mind.

Heartbeat = life. Yes, it’s personal. Abortion = murder. Yes, it’s personal. 

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