I am not supposed to be here. Not now, or more to the point, when I was spewed forth into the world. My existence defies the medical knowledge of the time and is most certainly a slap in the face to whoever gave my mother medical advice. He obviously didn’t do his homework. It sometimes crosses my mind that since my birth was supposedly not even conceivable at the time it occurred, the powers that be had to scramble to fashion my fate in a hurry and stuck me with a bunch of crap they couldn’t pawn off on the babies whose existence was unquestionable. Now that I am nearly at the middle of my life, as qualified by the average life expectancy, I can say for sure it’s been more than screwy, cracked and nothing has gone with the flow of things. Being an anomaly hasn’t been a cake walk. I’m not sure if the joke was on my parents or me. Makes me wonder what kind of sick sense of humor whoever is responsible really has.
Thus far I think I have handled it fairly well. I did have a crisis when I turned 20. No really, I thought it was all over. No, I didn’t think I would die and I can’t even begin to explain IT. And really, it can be only described as a mid-life crisis. I was precocious but seriously? 20. For the weeks and days leading up to my birthday that year I was miserable and stressed and well, miserable. I wasn’t really sure what was going on I and the best and shortest way to explain it was hormonal. Or bipolar. I was crazy up and down and the little voice in my head was telling me it was about turning 20 although I wouldn’t admit it out loud. It seemed silly. I sometimes wonder if it was a residual memory from a past life that caused me to balk. Why else would anybody have a complete breakdown at that age while the majority of other teenagers are focused on getting to the magic number 21. I say most because it is never fair to generalize and although I haven’t met another person who will admit to the same thing, I can not be the only one who thought 20 was the end of the world as we knew it. I can’t be… right?
There are too many people in the world to be able to have an experience that is uniquely yours. The probability is not very high. Of course there are exceptions. The Virgin Mary is the only one who comes to mind at the moment. Or possibly my existence except even there I do not think I can be the only baby conceived because of ignorant advice given out by the doctors who were really only guessing anyways. So yeah, the Virgin Mary is what I am going with.
It all blew up the night before my birthday. I am reluctant to provide much detail, so unlike me I know, as I’d rather just forget it anymore than learning whatever lesson I learned from it. My brother though won’t ever let me. I do not hold it against t him. If I had something that good to hang over his head I undoubtably would. It is a normal occurence in my family. That is just how we roll. Suffice it to say it involved too much gin, a lot of tears, an impatient yet stoic brother and a metal bowl. It’s a true story but that is all I have to say about it. My brother would tell you but I have cleverly only referred to him as my brother so good luck with that . :)
He who shall not be named, is only 10 months older than me. We are Irish twins, meaning we are less than a year apart, and a label I am not sure is a statement about the Irish, or because we actually are part Irish. I mean if you are from Lithuania and are 10 months apart from your sibling are you then considered Lithuanian twins? ***
To the Cloud! Or Google, whichever you prefer.
For 2 months of every year we re the same age. Please don’t ponder the implications too much and just remember, I am a medical miracle. It’s better for my self-esteem than an OOPS but seriously, they told my mother that she absolutely could not get pregnant while she was nursing. I am here to tell you that it isn’t true. It was the 60’s though. what did they know? And that is only her version anyways. Now that I am a mother and have had a few ahem oops myself I am wondering if it isn’t fudged just a little bit to save face? You tell yourself and your kids and anybody else something for 42 years and it is by repetition and a failing memory, true. Not to say my Mother has a failing memory. It’s an age thing.
My doubt is only because I really have a hard time accepting that I am a medical miracle and yet not written about in some medical journal or the topic of some lecture, My name isn’t synonymous with being conceived while my mother nursed my brother. Like the first test tube baby. What is her name again?
If it isn’t politically correct to call babies that weren’t planned and their parents weren’t exactly overjoyed at the news an OOps, I apologize. Being unplanned should not affect your self-esteem or cause you in any way to think that just because your mother cried when she found out she was pregnant AGAIN, she is not ecstatic and busting with joy, pride and love that you are here now. I promise this is the truth and you will learn it as you grow older. I am, as mentioned repeatedly, an OOPS myself and have a few of my own so frankly I think I am qualified to not only discuss and advise on the subject but to not give a monkey’s ass if I am politically correct. I know I talk about being politically correct quite a bit but it is only to let you know I am aware of the concept so that I don’t get jeered and booed for not adhering to it. Also because I think it is a bunch of hooey bunk. Despite what I think, and due to the fact I am clearly not ignorant of its existance, I just assume that anything that is said that somebody might take offense to is considered not PC and add a disclaimer of sorts to cover my ass because I am smart and funny and gosh darn it, people like me.
I am also a medical miracle plodding through the befuddlement of my existence. It’s not every day you come in contact with someone whose very being defies logic. Celebrate and rejoice in the wonder of my presence. Or at least be happy if you have no reason to ponder why or how (besides the obvious) you got here and if you are one who often does, take comfort that you are not alone.
I leave you dear readers with a nugget of wisdom especially for those of you of child-bearing age. Breast feeding is NOT birth control. True Story. I am living proof.
***here is a link to one of Urban Dictionary’s definition’s of Irish twins which includes how the term came about. Being one, I do know what it means and the original statement it made,http://irish-twins.urbanup.com/4959731