My birth was a quick one. I remember my mother telling about how she almost gave birth to me in the car on the way to the hospital.
I was born with the umbilical cord twisted around my neck, twice.
On that journey through the birth canal, I must have experienced a first brush with death, through asphyxiation.
As a matter of fact, I was born with eyes that were so bloodshot and vivid red, I was not a pretty baby for the first few months – my mom confessed.
Tough as the struggle for air may have been, I’m proud to say, I survived my own birth.
The day I was turning 2 months old my mother was bathing me in the basin. Grandparents were coming for dinner and she was readying me for the birthday party.
She had turned me on my belly to wash my back. Busy as she was bathing her new baby girl, she didn’t notice that her left arm had started to slide down with the weight of my head. Suddenly she noticed my body had shifted in a weird way, as if it had collapsed in her arms. She instantly knew something was wrong.
She turned me around. Totally unresponsive, I looked like I had just drowned. She panicked. She turned me upside down, she spanked me, she shook me, she did everything she could do to try and revive me.
Eventually, after what had seemed like an eternity, I started responding, moving, crying.
I was finally breathing.