Home > Adventures, My Everyday Life > my first greatest adventure

my first greatest adventure

MOM DISCLAIMER: Consider yourself warned mom. I MAY or MAY NOT have taken some liberties on the story of my birth. You may not want to read the jazzed up version as you lived it.

Readers, this epic is 99% truth and < 1% fallacy. I leave this up for your interpretation.

On the 28th of December I meant to write about the story of my birth, but I got too caught up in my self-loathing and let it slip my mind. So without further adue, here is the miraculous story of how young Matthew Thomas "Mateos Robert" was born unto this world.

I was lucky enough be born 1,980 years and three days after our Lord and Savior. Because of this all of my fun for the year is and always has been balled up in one 72 hour period between 25Dec and 28Dec. With a birthday so close to Christmas, the lines of dilineation between the two holidays always blurred. Christmas may or may not have been cut a little short in past years because my birthday was so close (in no way I am being ungrateful, but I heard this sometimes spill from adult's mouths as a kid and felt super jealous of spring babies and their 6 month gap between presents. Show offs…). Birthday gifts show up mysteriously wrapped in Christmas paper. The same Christmas paper from three days earlier, interesting. Santa wraps my birthday gifts too? How does he have time when he's making toys for all the children of the world? I must be special I always thought. Brian (30th), did this happen to you? Melissa (23th), to you? Mom, what about you (24th)? I'm sure it's happened to us all.

On to my birth odyssey. It was winter. It was cold. It was three days after Christmas in the year of our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Eighty. Mom hadn’t quite popped yet, but could sense that I grew restless inside her belly prison. That afternoon I decided I had enough artificial eating and breathing and that it was time for me to strike out on my own. I kicked, I punched and I proclaimed that December 28th would be the day I made my grand entrance into this blue marble. With one swift kick from 0 year old me, mom realized it was time to get me outta her. She called her doctor and said that we had to make our way to the hospital. He quickly replied, “Have you looked outside?” Much to mom’s chagrin, the snow was raging and an icy mix of precipitation accumulated throughout our tiny town. All the roads had been declared closed by the county and thus began the adventure that is my first birth, my only birth.

Armed with my grandmother’s zero wheel drive vehicle, my new family battled 12 plus inches of snow to just get out of our neighborhood. The car obviously had two-wheel drive but in these icy and near white out conditions, we moved at a snail’s pace. My new family’s efforts were futile and I became restless with their incompetency! “PLAN AHEAD I SCREAMED!” inside my uterine incarceration station. Several phone calls were made and as word spread of my impending birth, the neighbors banded together to push us from the neighborhood’s clutches. It’s nice to be popular. Once on the main road, my means of conveyance was again halted. This time by a Maryland State Trooper who thought it necessary to hassle prego mom and new family about the roads being closed. I could stand for this insolence no longer and decided to take matters into my own tiny baby hands. My only option was a round house kick to mom’s innards forcing her contractions to further intensify. Now Mister Smarty Pants State Trooper had no choice but to help pregs and new fam out. Can Chuck Norris do that? Gonna say it’s highly unlikely.

With Statey leading the way, we trudged on through the blizzard to my mama’s labor coach’s house, then proceeded to the Washington County Hospital. Important to note that before I even officially entered into this world, I was being treated with R-E-S-P-E-C-T as I was given a police escort to the place I had designated for my eventual birth. A 60 minute ordeal from front road to hospital when it should only take 10 on a clear day. With mom safely in the hospital, it was time to execute my escape.

With all my prior planning, I had calculated exactly four hours to reach the light at the end of the tunnel and crown. Being an excellent swimmer was obviously my defining attribute at this point in life since that’s the only reason I’m writing this today and with this in mind I decided to swim. Not a great distance to cover, but Im no Michael Phelps and grew weary upon reaching the light. With one final push, I crowned and allowed the doctor to assist in the final stage of my escape from Momcatraz. There are stories that lightning crashed and thunder roared. That the hospital lights flickered and that one nurse was actually struck blind by my beauty. I, of course, cannot vouch for these claims as I was too busy being born to worry about such trivial things like blindness and possible global catastrophe. This is merely folklore at this point.

Incredibly, I showed up right on time four hours later and decided to finally grace the world with my presence. POP! (That’s the sound that babies make as they come out. Kinda like popping Bubblicious) POP and “here I am” I wail with the manliest cry the world has ever have known! WAA WAA IM HERE WORLD! To boot, I decided to spruce myself up before allowing my family viewing privileges. The doctor declared I was the cleanest baby he had ever delivered. Pristine Baby Colvin. I also heard the doc mutter the following two statements, though my English was admittedly a little shaky at this time, : 1) “He (referring to Baby Colvin) is the most miraculous 6lb 12oz or 15oz piece of man slab I ever have had the pleasure of holding in my arms” AND, 2) “He’s hung like a 2-year-old, wow!” Congrats to Baby Colvin, not so good for 30-year-old Colvin however. Still rings true today unfortunately, sad face emoticon.

8=> 1 minute old Baby Colvin peesh or average 2-year-old peesh
8===> average 30-year-old male peesh
8=> 30-year-old Colvin peesh today

All this adds up to 😦

Dad got to watch his Oakland Raiders playoff game AND my parents inherited a beautiful sack of genetic mashup that day. Part German, part Irish and ALL PARTY! I came out the womb craving schnitzel and a heady pint of mama’s milk, Guinness.

That day the world was given yet another person who loves every ounce of life and likes to find humor in anything he can, even his birth story. Of course I jest about the miraculousness of my birth, don’t think me that conceited. In no way do I claim to be anything other than myself, a 30-year-old man who thinks the world of his fam/friends and who loves everything that this life offers.

With that being said, I would like to send a special shout out if I may.
“Thank you mom and dad for taking me from twinkle in your eyes to physical embodiment. Without you, I would have long been dried up on a happy tissue or wisked down the shower drain. Thanks fam, I owe you one…Cheers!”


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