Congenital Autobiography

In my head I was scared I was paralyzed and that I would never walk again. Scoliosis scarred me for life because the pain subsides in my forever now. It hasn’t gone away since the surgery it is only tolerable now. My memories from the hospital stay consist of lying on the striker frame in pain, staring at the floor or the ceiling depending upon the way I was positioned. Every fiber in my body wanted to move, but the process of moving was unbearable. Only two days after my surgery they started having me try to walk to the bathroom on my own, I needed assistance the first couple of tries but after a while I could walk on my own. Sitting up or in a chair was another thing, I was only relearning the muscle movements for my back, but I couldn’t stand the pain and my stomach couldn’t keep the food down. I cried every day because I couldn’t do things for myself, I was mad at the world for putting me through pain. After about a week in recovery I was sent home, but there were problems there too. After 3 months I was able to finally sit in a chair for a long period of time, lay in my bed, run, and do every day things on my own again. I learning an important lesson through this; you don’t become successful without working for and the occasional obstacle. Spine surgery changes a person. It can fix

I walk into the cold, white hospital, my hands are sweating and my knees are shaking. Even though I have done this every six months since I was twelve years old, it never gets easier. I find a seat in the corner of the waiting room, embarrassed by the large, plastic, butterfly printed scoliosis brace I hold tightly against my side. The door opens, a nurse dressed in plain navy blue scrubs calls out “Emma for Dr. Meyers”. She leads my mom and me down a long hallway, and into a small, brightly lit room. The curse that is scoliosis is hereditary, which means my mom has it, and each of my sisters has been touched by this cruel disease that bends the spine as well. Scoliosis is a curvature of the spine that occurs during the growth period just before and through puberty.

Reliving a brutal past can tear a country apart. Learning from our mistakes and understanding our history can prevent some of the most outrageous acts we ever made. Why should the ability to research our past be taken away if the threat of repeating it is upon us. The Autobiography of Malcolm X is banned and constantly challenged is schools and public facilities by the Library of Congress. Why are people trying to cover up an important part in our history from our youth and elders that want a better understanding? Taking an important piece of history out of our reach will causes it to be repeated and no one will understand the mistakes that were made and what was learned from them. The civil rights movement during the 1960’s was a very dangerous time period in this country involving nearly every member of the population. Many voices on both sides stood out as leaders, particularly Malcolm X who has been called the most dangerous man in the world, stood out and said what no one else wanted to say. He was

Abraham Maslow once said, “In any given moment we have two options: to step forward into growth or to step backward into safety.” My whole life I have had many medical issues typically preventing one from doing a lot of the “normal” things a child can do. But I truly believe that life is not about the circumstances you were given, but much rather how you choose to react to them. So growing up I have always managed to find a way to not let my disabilities hinder me from living my life like everyone else and defy the odds I was handed.

Growing up I’ve faced many challenges, my self-confidence being the biggest issue of them all, never feeling I was normal or could fit in and let me tell you, it’s a tough way to live like that for anyone. The reason I felt like the kid everybody thought had cooties causing them to run away from on the playground was because I was born with a unique birthmark called hemangioma. The birthmark happened to be on my bottom lip and chin. A hemangioma is a benign tumor filled with rapid growing blood vessels, it required two surgeries for removal and serval for repairs in my case. Luckily I’ve come a long way of what my birthmark was in the beginning to how it appears now, which is minor scars in both my bottom lip and chin.

Growing up as a child, I was different from the rest of the kids in my current community. I grew up in a tiny religious dot, barely recognizably on a map; West Union, Ohio. I moved to Cincinnati shortly before my first grade year, but I can visually account for many memories that were created during my first portion of life in West Union.

The diaper pin represents when I took my first breath on July 12, 1989 in St. Cloud, MN. I was born on a clear morning just after 8am, and I was 7 pounds 11 ounces measuring at 21 inches long. I also had a head full of curly brownish red hair, the only one of my 2 older brothers and 2 older sisters that had hair. My parents were married at the time of my birth, and there were no significant issues with my mother during the pregnancy that impacted my development. I was however, a C-section baby, due to my brother being a C-section baby just 1year and 11 days before my birth. After my mom returned to work, my aunt watched my siblings and I until I was about 1 year old when my neighbor became my permanent daycare lady.

Born in 1931, my mother’s birthplace, Missouri. Coincidental moment brought my parents together, my father’s sister happens to be dating a mutual friend of my mother’s family that is how she eventually met my father, thereafter they were married in Kentucky. Calling a Taxi, my father paid their way across the county line to marry, being that my mother was under the age of seventeen; the legal age to marry in Kentucky is sixteen. Come to find out after they tied the knot the church burned down, the pastor died, and the taxi driver was shot and killed by the sheriff in town; that is a terrible omen in my

As a first year sociology student, my sociological file is minute and underdeveloped. I have my interests and research questions when it comes to sociology because of my inexperience. With the Persian heritage I obtain, I have an interest in how society reacts to those of Middle Eastern ancestry in public.

From early on in life I knew that I was adopted. Unfortunately, that was about all I knew. I knew when and where I was born and the approximate age of my biological mom, but the rest was left to question. I often found myself wondering, "Who was she?" "Who was he?" "Was it love?" "Where are they now?" "Did they end up together?" "Are they even alive?" "Who would I be had I stayed with them?" "Where did my characteristics come from?" Questions like this ran through my head almost daily. It wasn’t until my eighteenth birthday that I got any answers; it was then that I learned some life changing information about my origins.

Most eleven year girls’ primary concern is whether or not her crush has a similar interest in her. I, on the other hand, had much more than boys on my mind during middle school. At that age, I was diagnosed with severe scoliosis. Throughout this entire experience, I faced various trials and heartaches, but I acquired a multitude of irreplaceable life lessons.

I am the oldest and only girl of nine children, and I was raised by my mother for most of my life. She taught me (and only me) what sex is, its purposes, and the risks and sacrifices that come with engaging in sexual acts of any kind. She was technical and mostly objective and gave me reading material that matched her attitude and perspective. If I did or said anything that seemed vaguely or remotely sexual, I was told not to do or say that and punished accordingly. All of this led me to believe that as a girl, I should be knowledgeable and informed about the subject, but being sexual at all was inappropriate and should be repressed.

I remember myself sitting near a little block with letters and my mother teaching me the name of each of them. She starts to sing me a song to help me to memorize the alphabet. It is so funny singing the ABC song. At that instant, the door opens, and my father enters the room. That is the first thing carved in my memory, and each time when I think about it, I conclude that we are the best family in the world.

My name is Tiffany Amber Deramos. I live in Queens, New York, and am in 5th Grade. I was born on a warm and sunny day, so I am told, on March 26, 2002 at the Columbia Presbyterian Hospital in Manhattan. I started going to school when I was six-years old. I went to Kindergarten through Fifth Grade at PS/IS268Q Elementary. I won an award for honors for all for terms and an award for perfect attendance. School is very important to me and I like my teachers and the subjects we study. I study a lot because I do not have many friends outside of school.

I stared at the worksheet in front of me thinking hard. Math had always been my least favorite subject and I was trying my best to focus on the work in front of me. “Kaurwaki!,” my mom yelled from the living room. “I’m coming,” I answered back, grateful for a reason to stop working on my homework. I walked into the living room and saw both my parents staring at me with a weird look on their faces. My mom motioned for me to sit on the couch and said, “We need to talk to you.” My mind started racing thinking of all the bad things I had ever done to deserve a confrontational conversation. My mom looked at me with a serious expression and asked, “Would you rather have a dog or a baby brother.” “A dog, of course,” I answered, slightly confused at the question but hoping that my parents would finally be giving in to the years I have spent relentlessly asking for one.