A Little Girl and an Old Bear

I was born some 27 years ago just past midnight on a warm May night. I was born in a hospital that has long since been shut down. Present during my birth was my mum, dad a midwife or two and my dad’s younger sister, my aunt. I was born six weeks premature and weighed in at 2500 grams and 45 cm. I was a tiny little baby, too small for nappies and the clothes my proud parents had brought. I was the first born.

Now, 27 years later, Chloe is also our first born. She was born at home on the couch on a snowy January morning. It was a planned home birth and she was born at 8.20 am after merely 6 hours of labour. Present was a midwife, my husband and my parents. She was born the day before my due date and weighed 3525 grams and was 50 cm long. She had a cute little button nose and big, dark eyes.

27 years ago, just an hour after I was born, my aunt gave me her present: A little orange bear. She put him down next to me in my little cot. My whole childhood we have been inseparable. He was there every night, for every sleepover, for every tea party and every holiday. He even travelled to Australia with me at age of 21! He has had a few stitches and one time he had his tail torn off. I cried for a whole hour until my mum was able to reattach it. I love that little bear. And now, 27 years later, I have passed him on to my daughter. He is the first thing she picks up in the morning and the last thing she cuddles at night before closing her little eyes. She loves him too. And I hope they have a wonderful 27 years together.


Chloe’s mom