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My Life: It Started One Day in the Womb

Updated on May 9, 2016

Can You Picture

Can you picture life as a fetus?

You're in a fluid filled chamber. You cannot move very well. You can hear sounds. Gurgling perhaps. A strong thumping noise accompanied by a gurgle. The thumping noise does not always remain the same beat, but changes.

With the changes, comes pressure. Sometimes, the beating comes with movement. Almost like being on a bad ride at the carnival. Jiggling, sometimes a gentle forward motion.

A 9 Month Macarena

You can picture what it feels like to do the Macarena. Can you even picture what it would feel like if you were inside someone when they were doing it.

First, there'd be the rocking sideways, almost a twitch. Then, there'd be that bump next to your left ear. Then, the bump next to your right ear. Then, the feeling of going up in the air with a twist and a sharp downward and fast stop.

Almost enough to make one go 'oooof'.


I do not remember much about being in the womb. I heard a story once, about a man who sang songs to his wife's abdomen while she was pregnant.

Apparently, as the story goes, the boy was born and was perhaps four years old when the man, the father told the boy that he had played guitar and sang to him when he wasn't born yet. The boy looked at him, and said 'That was you?'

It's really something to think about, isn't it?


Life was simpler then. It was warm. It was safe. There was no lawn to mow. There was nothing to do. Nothing to do but wait. Wait and think. Think and grow.

I suppose I did not notice that my space was ever decreasing, with every day, it became harder and harder to move around. It was almost as if the walls were coming closer. Good thing I was not claustrophobic.

One Day

Then. There was a period of rocking, almost a pendulum movement. Apparently my mother walked to the hospital. Was she walking fast? I don't know. She claimed that she had a bad cramp and my father was not home, so she walked the seven blocks to the hospital and checked in.

My older sister knows nothing of this happening since she was fifteen and in school and wasn't aware.


I don't remember much about my birth. I know that I had to squeeze through a small tunnel and I thought I was not going to get through it. There were people to help me out at the other end of the tunnel when I got to the other side.

How they knew I was in need of their help is beyond me, but they helped me out. I must have been cold and wet and angry, but at some point, someone was holding me and I once again heard the familiar thump, thump thumping noise.

I fell asleep. The ordeal had been exhausting, this birth.


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    • ValKaras profile image

      Vladimir Karas 

      2 years ago from Canada

      Char - What a great hub! Our mind is capable of asking all kinds of questions - they may be amusing, spirited, but also unanswerable, like questions about life and death, or our purpose.

      Your hub makes one ask - Was it actually myself at that point, or only some kind of "biological material" which only facilitated a later unfolding of "me"-the personality? If my parents had given me for an adoption, what I know as "myself" would have been someone with a different personality, not really "me" as I sense myself now.

      Isn't all that strange? Every atom of my body has been replaced since my birth some 70 times, so even my body is not of that baby. Hmmm...

    • firstcookbooklady profile imageAUTHOR

      Char Milbrett 

      2 years ago from Minnesota

      Thank you.

    • Harishprasad profile image

      Harish Mamgain 

      2 years ago from New Delhi , India

      Hello Char ! I haven't seen such creative writing as this. You have great imagination ! A wonderful hub !

    • Discordzrocks profile image

      Gavin Heinz 

      2 years ago from Austin TX

      Life and death, its all just one endless cycle. Why do we live, why do we die, nobody knows.


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