The Minority Report | Ashley Kim
Birthdays are my favorite because it’s an opportunity to openly express our appreciation for another person’s existence something I feel we don’t do enough, and something I wish didn’t feel so exclusive to birthdays.
Since we are publishing on my birthday, I only thought it to be appropriate to share the story of the night I was born. I was due on Oct. 4, but I was born two weeks earlier on Sept. 20. My parents would tell you that I was very anxious to see the world.
It was a normal day in the Kim household, except it wasn’t at all. My dad had gone out for a drink with some friends, despite being told not to by my mom, who had a strange feeling that something was going to happen. My grandma was visiting from South Korea and shared my mom’s sentiments, but the persistence of his friends would lure him to the bar for a drink, or five.
It was 2:30 a.m. when my mom’s water broke. My dad was not home yet. You could imagine the panic that unfolded. My mom, having no other option, picked up my dad (yes—after her water broke), and she drove herself to the hospital while my dad was sprawled across the backseat sound asleep, completely unfazed by my arrival, or the fact that my mother was about to go into labor, and she was behind the wheel. I don’t know if you caught that, but my mother drove herself to the hospital after her water broke. It makes me laugh every time I think about it. Her life would’ve been so much easier if Lyft had been around back then.
Anyway, I arrived later that morning. My dad was awake (finally), and little did they know that my crying would only be the first of thousands of times I would annoy them.
The only reason I wish babies could remember things in the womb is because I, selfishly, wish I were more present for this night. For now, I’ll imagine I was laughing the entire way to the hospital in my mom’s stomach.
Although 22 is an age only made relevant by Taylor Swift, I am excited to see what this year will bring.