My mother was in labor for three days before I was born. That was the most significant thing I heard as I grew up. As far as I know, only the doctors were present although my father had been in the waiting room on and off. He said that he was quite annoyed with the doctor when he said that mom wasn't working hard enough at first. And then the doctor said that she wasn't really built for having children. Dad said couldn't he have figured that out after nine months of examinations?
I did eventually appear though. I do have a baby photo from the hospital somewhere in my memorabilia mess. Although it could also be my sister as we were both born at the Royal Victoria Hospital (a Gothic pile in Montreal) and there is no date on the photo.
Although "rooming in" wasn't the norm back in 1952, I was able to stay in my mother's room after I was born because she contracted erysipelas--a staph-like infection--right after I was born. So I couldn't be in the nursery.
All in all, it's not the most joyful birth story. But it's mine.
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