Fun fact:

I was born premature... 1½ times.

My mom tried to push me out after about six months. If I remember her stories correctly, they gave her some kind of treatment to stop the labor... but I got stuck pretty far down the birth canal, with some of her womb muscles contracted around my head.

I was finally born "only" a month premature, at something like 2 lbs. 8 oz. I also had a lovely tonsure-like ring of bruises around my head.

The obstetrician on duty apparently had trouble getting me out with forceps, the bruising got worse, and he told my mom I was going to be, quote, "profoundly retarded," the plates of my skull would never separate properly. He told her I would never learn to feed myself, and would probably be dead by six. (He lost his license years later for unrelated incompetence.)

Thankfully, my Aunt Pauline was a retired RN and had a good friend in Cleveland who was a neurologist. She looked my skull over for 2-3 minutes, waved a penlight in front of me, and (I'm told) watched me coo and grasp at random things with great curiosity. She basically said "yeah, um, fuck that guy, your baby's gonna be fine."

Heh, I sure proved her wrong. :D

According to my mom, I got left on some state list of special-needs children and shortly after my 5th birthday they sent a social worker over. Mom was not happy. She called me downstairs and had me read bits of the dictionary out loud at the poor guy. We never heard from them again. :)

Sometimes, though... I do wonder if something didn't get squished in there after all. You know... that vital part of the brain that prevents normal people from turning into a tiger. =^____^;=