The "Accident"

I’m going to start these stories way back at the very beginning.

Samantha was an accident. I use the term “accident” loosely as our mother says it was a welcome surprise, but at the time we all thought me ever having a sibling was an utter impossibility. At three years old I was completely ok with being the center of my parents’ universe. Little did I know what the future had in store.

After my mother had me, the doctor’s told her that if she were to try to have another child it would kill her. Her blood was too thin, her uterus too damaged (yeah, I totally took a machete to it on my way out) and her body too weak. So, my mother decided to have her “tubes tied.” She went begrudgingly through the procedure and it nearly broke her heart.

You see, our mom grew up in a family of nine children. I still can’t even fathom Grandma popping out nine bouncing babies. In this day and age it just seems utterly unfeasible. Anyway, to our mother, family was life and she was devastated that I would never get to experience the love of a sibling. Our mom had this thought in her head that every kid should have a brother or sister, because that way if Dad and Mom died we’d still have each other. Morbid, right?

Well, it turns out there was a bit of mal-practice at play. While our mother supposedly underwent surgery, it seemed that they forgot to actually do the procedure. Mom was sent home under the belief that everything in her gut was tied up in a neat little bow and since she had a brand new baby girl to go home with, the depression of becoming barren was pushed aside.

A few years go by and our mom gets a terrible flu. It’s so strange though as it only seems to come up in the morning and her feet have started to ache more and more. So Mom goes to the doctor and they run all sorts of tests. I think she saw three doctors before one finally said, “Well, let’s try a pregnancy test just in case.” To which our Mom (God love her) refused until the third visit. Low and behold, Mom was pregnant.

One of my earliest memories is actually when my mother told me the news. I was unhappy. In fact, it was the end of my world as I knew it. That was a lot for a three year old to handle. Mom of course made it out to be this wonderful thing and someone I could play with when I was bored. Someone to love no matter what and love me no matter what… but I knew better!

I was determined that this new thing was only coming into the world because God hated me. Obviously, that’s the only thing that could be true. God hated me and I was going to be cast aside and ignored. I had seen Lady and the Tramp! I knew how these things worked! I was going to be bouncing up and down on the stairs and Daddy would walk by me with a tray full of baby bottles and I wouldn’t even exist anymore!

I actually wasn’t too far off at first. Samantha was the talk of the town. Every single conversation amidst friends and family was talking about the new baby and what a miracle she was and how lucky I was to have a new sister on the way! Was I bitter? Yes. Incredibly.

Our uncle Tommy (the youngest of our mother’s nine siblings) was the only one that seemed to even notice how I felt. During the hubbub of Samantha’s coming into the world, he took me on little adventures and talked to me like I was the only person that mattered. He and his girlfriend Kirsten (now our aunt) helped me cope with the idea of sharing anything with a new person.

If not for their love and attention who knows how bitter I would have been.

My mom went into the hospital early in case of complications and I was carted between relatives until the day came that Samantha was born into the world. Her face was squished in and her head was the shape of an egg. Everyone thought she was so beautiful. I didn’t get it.