I was going through some old papers looking for my social security card. I haven’t found it yet but I did come across a paper I wrote my freshmen year of college.
It was an interview I had with my mother for my human nutrition class. I had to ask her about the circumstances around my birth. I learned a lot. 26 or so years ago I weighed 8 lbs, 3.5 oz. Five months into her pregnancy she went into renal failure, and doctors encouraged her to abort me. Instead she chose to take me to term. She thought I was a beautiful baby, but she knew that I was something special when the nurses wanted to use me as a demo baby.
About a month after that interview, she died. She lived 42 years, 10 months, 7 days.
Broken down, that comes out to 15,654 days.
- 1,352,505,600 seconds
- 22,541,760 minutes
- 375,696 hours
- 2,236 weeks (rounded down)
That she was alive. One the day she died, I had been alive 991 weeks. Or 19 years, 1 day. That’s 6,941 days. A little under half of her life.
I miss her.