The day you are born is supposed to be the most joyous day for all of your family. February 12th, 2000 was anything but that.
In the midst of bright yellow Laburnum leaves and crisp winter air, there was havoc. A man and a woman, having recently relocated to India, had absolutely no idea how they were having a child after a year of meeting each other and having an arranged marriage. The whole process was simply absurd to the both of them, but in a desperate push to conform to societal norms, neither told the other how they felt. As they anxiously visited their doctor for a check-up, they sat in the waiting room in utter silence. Suddenly, the frazzled doctor burst in with her glasses turned upside down on her frizzy hair. Shit, the news could not be good. Not when a doctor comes in like this.
“Your child’s umbilical cord wrapped around its neck. You will need to have an emergency C-section. Today. That is, if you want to save your child’s life.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. The first kid and both of them had already fucked up. They pushed their clammy hands against one another, the friction creating more tension. Their eyes bore into the other’s brown orbs as they unanimously responded.
“Yes, we will have the surgery.”
In that moment, my life was assured. With a rocky start to my life, the rest has been equally chaotic. I’ve lived across the globe, I’ve attended three high schools, I’ve left friends and made friends, I’ve had zero stability. At the same time, my life is a new adventure each day. From the moment I was born to today, I know I won’t let an uneventful day pass by me.