I was a few hours old. I was not recognized at the hospital or the court. I did not exist in the eyes of those around me, aside from the doctor. I was mom and dad’s little princess. Years later, the name stuck. Credit Valley Hospital refused to admit that I’ve just been given life in that very room of the ICU. All other medical staff failed to see that I am Cassandra Louise Di Lalla and that I am very much alive. Right in front of them. No birth certificate, no other sort of paperwork. I know I’m a human. My parents know. The doctor believed what he saw, and he accepted my beating heart. Medical staff were completely delirious and delusional. I didn’t know who I was yet but I acknowledged my surroundings and saw that the two people that were with me were there to stay until the end.

A year passes by and we are in court. My father was holding me in his arms. I was small and frail as ever. The judge stood before us. The courtroom was silent and all other authority figures had a stern look on their face. Everyone was ready. Ready for something…anything really. Maybe a cry or a scream. Or perhaps even the use of profanity. You might be wondering why. Well, it took four years for me to get my birth certificate. Four years of my life spent without identification or sense of belonging in society. My mother and father had to pay up front at every appointment, any medication prescribed to me, anything and everything. Truth be told, life was expensive in those four years.

“Are you f****** kidding me?” My father angrily spoke out. This is real, it happened. “I’m holding my daughter in my arms. How are you going to tell me she does not exist and there was no record of her being born?” my father expressed as agitation kicked in and washed away any other thoughts. The judge requested paperwork as though he didn’t believe the reason behind the three of us having to attend court. No, for f*** sakes; that’s why we were in court. “Is there any way we can contact the hospital?” The judge was dumbfounded. My mother and father had contacted multiple people, and spoke to several individuals regarding my legality. They could not locate the paperwork. “What part of this do you not understand? The paperwork, the hospital, my daughter, what…? Let’s start from zero again!!!” My mother and father both standing there nearly in tears. Hostility at its finest. My poor mother, dazed and confused; she felt helpless and crushed.

My father was up in flames as the judge threw these irrational comments his way. My mother had a burning sensation deep in her soul. “That’s not your daughter! There’s no proof of this little girl’s future legacy if she’s got no life to begin with. You’re not giving me anything to work with here, and quite frankly, I’m not even sure why we are here right now” The judge was, evidently, losing patience and proved to be insensitive about the case. The thought alone of being told that your child was not deemed alive or a breathing individual is difficult enough to hear to the point that you’d want to give up. Completely. But where’s the rationality here? Their efforts and pursuit is what kept me alive. In fact, that’s still the case today. I think it’s safe to say that the pessimism in my life started off at a very young age…almost immediately after leaving my mom’s womb. I haven’t heard that story up until the age of eighteen. It’s been many years. No recognition whatsoever. I really understand a bad thought when I feel it but I can only imagine how my parents felt after being told that I “technically don’t exist”. F*** technicality; look at reality. I’m alive and I’m breathing. I don’t think I was a mistake or an accidental mishap. My birth was intentional though the missing paperwork, the copious amounts at that, stated otherwise. They must have felt angst, remorse, and a pretty shitty run through anxiety. All because the court wasn’t able to…excuse me…did not WANT to see or comprehend that my body was not a rubberized “designer doll” but to their surprise: a real human. I am God’s creation, and this was my attempt at explaining first hand pessimism as a newborn no name whatever you are experience. I am Cassandra Louise Di Lalla. Nice to meet you.