Emily's first day.
I have a strange mixture of early memories from within the womb. Certain voices were recognisable and usually calming. I had a working knowledge of football and a passion for the theme tune of Emmerdale, which was my alarm call to wake up and make sure Mummy did the same. I have also lost count of the number of times I have had hiccups over the last few months because of funny food cravings, so a little instant revenge seemed appropriate.
It is a well known fact that you lose brain cells as you get older, so that makes us babies the most intelligent people on earth. It is one of life’s ironies that at the other end of our life cycle we dribble more, are understood less and still have constantly wet underwear. For now I intend to make good use of my intelligence. I refused to come out easily and after inflicting a few hours of pain, a suction wielding doctor was called for. I did consider holding out for a cesarean, but I prefer the more traditional methods and was not confident of Daddy taking on a larger share of childcare duties while Mummy recovered. I knew this would be a problem for him as I was already becoming something of an expert on football and I had established that the World Cup was on. I was confident of my cute new baby appeal, but when compared to England or Brazil, his attention might wander more than Mummy’s so I had to give in to Doctor Suction. This caused me a bumped head and a second bump from mum’s pelvis on the way out, but I think I won in the overall pain ratio stakes, particularly as Doctor Suction was accompanied by a torch wielding Viking who administered a “small surgical incision” with his NHS sword, allegedly to create a bit more room. I gave way and my hairy head popped into the world at eleven minutes past eleven on Monday 24th June 2002. I looked quite a sight with my dark gooey hair [which I soon lost to a prolonged spell of early baldness] and my matching pair of lumps on my head. They whisked me away for a wash and to check me over. An intake of vitamins and a warm wash are fair enough but I wish they wouldn’t pass me backwards and forwards and poke and prod me so much. On the evidence so far, I am not impressed with the medical profession and if only my vocal chords were fully developed I would have told them to bugger off. Fortunately for them they soon wrapped me in a blanket and passed me to Daddy for his first cuddle. He stood by the window with me so that he could look away from the blood and goo which he finds so disturbing. This was ok though because I could see a Pied Wagtail hopping about on the enclosed lawn in one of the hospital's square gardens. My eyes were fully open and I was studying the wildlife, when Doctor Suction's pal, the Matron from hell, lurched into view. “Ooh look at her eyes, this ones been here before” she cooed. What does she think I am, a No 34 bus? I don’t know about been here before, but if I get a second turn, her and Doctor Suction will wish I hadn’t. I think they got the message because the Doctors, nurses, and trainee nurses, who had just been watching to gain experience [blood thirsty sadists] all began to disappear, leaving just a Sister [to whom I am not even related, so she is an impostor], Mummy, Daddy and Aunty Maxine. Aunty Maxine was there for two reasons; firstly because she is a blood thirsty sadist too and secondly nobody expected Daddy to last the duration, especially when the blood started to flow and Mummy wanted some moral support.
I was feeling a bit tired after the morning’s events and decided to have a nap. For the first time ever I could drop off without the sound of football or hiccoughs, or strange food gurgling around me. Look out world, after a few hours sleep I will be heading your way.