The hospital that I was born in was a very old building and the room of my birth was not well lit. The lights kept flickering in the storm and the power cut out for a while.
My dad was not allowed into the room as the woman giving birth to me was the surrogate. My mother watched my birth from across the room. Thunder rumbled in the back ground. When I was born I was handed straight to my mother who held me and rocked me with joy, I was, to her, the tiny miracle that she could not birth herself due to fibroids. The nurse then took me to my father who had fallen asleep outside in the dark corridor. My dad said that he remembered my mass of black hair all sticking up on end and how I was very quiet and observant. The nurse had exclaimed that I must have been an old soul.
The surrogate watched through narrowed eyes as my parents wept, laughed and held their first born child. The birth had been so long that they were worried that I might not survive, which heightened their grateful relief and joy. I wish that I could have remembered, or witnessed that pure moment before everything went horribly wrong.
I think that my parents had about 5 minutes of happiness before the other nurse came out and said that the surrogate had changed her mind. She now refused to give me up.
I imagine that spiteful, hate filled woman watching my parents happiness and how she just wanted to ruin it. Watching through the window in that hospital door. Her bitter face framed in it.
I was to run into her kind several times in life, and each time it ended in tragedy.
Solve This Murder 