Eighteen months before I was born, my mother was in Auschwitz. She weighed 49 pounds. She always told me that God saved her so she could give me life. I was born out of nothing.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
Instead of joyfully looking forward to my birth, my mother began systematically preparing for her own death. She was fatalistic.
As a child, my mother had instilled in me a feeling of being born for a purpose.
Just previous to the birth of my little son, my mind gave way and my child was born in the asylum for the insane at Stockton, Cal. My boy was buried there.
Over the years my mother's steadfast faith in God has inspired me, particularly when I had to perform extremely difficult surgical procedures or when I found myself faced with my own medical scare.
When my babe was born, they said it was premature. It weighed only four pounds; but God let it live.
My mother made a choice. And when I was younger, I judged her for making that choice. Then I got older and got to be an adult, and I realized that was the ultimate sacrifice that any parent and any mother could possibly make.
I was blessed with a birth and a death, and I guess I just want some say in between.
I was 17 pounds when I was born. My mother couldn't walk for three weeks.
I was kind of a misfit, and when my mother died, I had to become an adult, something that I never thought I would ever be.
I was born two months early, and everyone had given up on me. But my mother insisted on my life.