My birth

My birth. Well, it was a total mess. There were my useless parents, at the age of nineteen, hippies for God sake, could it be more pathetic then that? They did not know anything about life, responsibility, children, they just wanted to sleep around and forget about the consequences. Well, here is the consequence, hahaha! I mean myself, you know, that I am the consequence of all that flower power crap. So then my mother got pregnant, and I’m sure they wanted an abortion, because they were of that kind, but they were too lazy to figure out how to do it or they didn’t have the money and by the time they begged enough money from their friends it was too late. And a few months later there they were, in the hospital, my useless father waiting in the hospital’s hallway for my useless mother to stop screaming.

As he often said to me,

‘Little did I know that he real trouble would only start when she stopped and you started screaming.’

And inside the maternity ward, there was my mother, who knew nothing about childbirth. She didn’t attend one course, she didn’t read one book about it, she didn’t even ask her own mother about women’s duties. So there she was, lying on the white bed like dead meat, surrounded by hospital waste: the nurses.

Useless women shouting useless words to each other, yap-yap-yap, and no one did anything practical to make me born. It was a total chaos, until the doctor arrived. The doctor knew what he was doing but he didn’t get along well with my mother, as my mother couldn’t take people bossing her around, she had to know everything better. She told him to back off so the doctor pushed her belly which made her shat all over the place, so you can imagine the place where I arrived as no one cared to clean the shit up.

My mother called the doctor a bully and the doctor called her a spoiled child, who she actually was. So my mother started to lecture him about authoritarian personality traits, which made the doctor angry so at the end he slapped her face.

‘Push it, for God sake!’ the doctor screamed at my mother, and my mother screamed back:

‘Jawhol, Herr Obersturmbahnführer!’

and that was the moment when the doctor left the room, telling my mum that she could do the whole circus herself from then on. So it took one hour to get the other doctor, a substitute who was probably a baker by profession, hahaha, and in this hour my father heard my mother screaming louder than ever, and she was screaming:

‘Take this thing out of me! Take it out!’ And she begged the nurses to cut her belly to end the pain.

So at the end I understood that I had to do the whole thing myself, and so I just did it. I just came out. My mother wasn’t even pushing. I solved the problem, hahaha. Really.

And then my father came in and the nurse put me on the belly of my mother, who was too self-centered to even touch me, so they gave me to my father who didn’t know what to do so he gave me back to the nurse who held me under water and at least the shit came off my skin.

My mother didn’t wake up in the next two days, and I was fed by the nurses and spent the hours alone in my white cage. After three days, my father took me and my depressed mother home, and my mother didn’t even wake up to go to the toilet so after a couple of days her parents came and took her to a sanatorium, and she only came back when I was already six months old. My father took care of me in these months My grandmother said that I stopped crying after the second month, realizing that there was no use of it. My father fed and changed me in every two hours, and after each baby session he closed the door of the baby room carefully and went back to study, and the doors were quite thick in our house if you know what I mean. He put me to the childcare when I was three months old, and of course I don’t remember how the childcare was, but I think that in the childcare at least there was some order.