Personal Narrative: My Birth

We all have to thank our parents for bringing us to life. If your adopted, thank your foster parents for raising you. Without them, you wouldn't be who you are today. We were all born at some point. Shocker, right? When we were born, our parents give us names, and a life. Now, everybody has some story behind their name, or a little something about how something happened when they were born. Maybe it's a broken bone, or some sort of defect. I personally had one injury, but if you want to see what it was, you'll have to keep reading. Firstly, I'll talk about where and when I was born. I was born at a hospital. Specifically, Good Samaritan Hospital. My birthdate is April 25, 2003, and I was born at 12:32am. At least I think it was 12:32. I may have gotten the time mixed up, but it's not incredibly important you know the time I was born. Anyways, I was born with a broken collarbone. Since I was born broken, I've been set up for a lifetime of constant injuries. Incase you haven't noticed, which you probably have, I've been wearing an ankle brace and a knee brace. What's not to love about bad joints that don't function properly? Oh yes, everything. Anyways, since I had a broken collarbone, they apparently
For me, and I have no idea why, it was white square cloths. I used to call them "bappoos" which my parents said was my favorite thing to say. They were two by two soft cloth squares. I'd do everything with one of these bappoos. I'd sleep with one wrapped around my wrist, carry one around with me, tie it around my neck for a cape, and so forth. I believe I had a pile with seven of them. One for each day of the week. Anytime I had to do anything slightly uncomfortable, I'd have one with me. I think I literally had one on me all the time. 24/7. If I didn't have a bappoo, I'd grab a big fuzzy blanket, then wrap up inside it. I'd lay on the floor, then roll into the blanket making myself a burrito. Ah, the