Birth Story Quotes

My mother giving birth to me was just like Lady Sybil giving birth, except that there wasn't such a tragic ending.

I was born in Brooklyn, delivered by a Chinese doctor on a table in a boarding house on Sept. 23, 1920.

To my embarrassment I was born in bed with a lady.

On the last day of January 1915, in the second year of the Great War, down in the shadow of some French mountains on the borders of Spain, I came into this world.

I was born in New York City on a cold January night when the water pipes in our apartment froze and burst. Fortunately, my mother was in the hospital rather than at home at the time.

My mother was in labour for two full days before having me on a sunny August afternoon. She went into labour on the 7th, and I chose to make my big entrance on the 9th.

At a very early age and continuing throughout my life, I have marveled at the beautiful story of the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

I never thought I would be one of those wacky chicks who say, 'I loved my labor,' but I loved every part of it. It was the best day of my life.

My mom and dad did something special when they made me.

I was my parent's first child, Joanna Catherine Going, named for my great-great grandmother Catherine, and my father's maternal aunt Johanna Burke, and bearing the initials of my father's father, John Christopher, who passed away just months before I was born.

I was born Gaynor Hopkins, one of seven children. My mum, Elsie, and dad, Glyndwr, always said they had seven children, although my sister Paulene was stillborn.

My mom likes to say I've been covering news since the day I was born - longer if you count my time in utero.

Once in royal David's city Stood a lowly cattle shed, Where a Mother laid her Baby In a manger for His bed: Mary was that Mother mild Jesus Christ her little Child . . . With the poor, and mean, and lowly, Lived on earth our Savior Holy.

My dad told me that when I was born my cheeks were so fat the doctors didn't know which end to spank.

I was born in an elevator, and - as my mother said - naturally it was going down. She said, "All I remember is telling your father, 'That's it! Never again!'" That's why I'm an only child.

Bowing down in blind credulity, as is my custom, before mere authority and the tradition of the elders, superstitiously swallowing a story I could not test at the time by experiment or private judgment, I am firmly of the opinion that I was born on the 29th of May, 1874, on Campden Hill, Kensington; and baptised according to the formularies of the Church of England in the little church of St. George opposite the large Waterworks Tower that dominated that ridge.

It was a typically British birth... I was three at the time. They had a strike in the maternity ward... I came out in sympathy.

'Tigerman' was born in the front seat of a Hilux SUV on the road north out of Chiang Mai.

When I came out of my mom's womb, I had 'sitcom' stamped on my forehead.

In 1936, when I was born in the small Silesian village of Waltersdorf in the county of Sprottau in the then-eastern part of Germany, now part of Poland, the fine structure of the cell was still an enigma.

On the day I was born, or possibly on one of the following days, my father went on a walk in the forested hills and thought of a name for me. His first son was called Daniel, and Samuel in memory of one of his forefathers.

My mother used to tell this corny story about how the doctor smacked me on the behind when I was born and I thought it was applause, and I have been looking for it ever since.

When I was born, I was 10.5 pounds. My dad said I was like a little rock. It's stuck with me ever since.

I think I was born because my parents had two boys and wanted to give it one more go and try for a girl... they got me instead.

I was born in New York City, along with a twin sister. I am five minutes older than Emily. It was Emily, for reasons no one knows - she certainly doesn't - who called me Avi. It stuck. It's the only name I use now.