Porter's Genesis, part 1

No animal should endure awareness during the birthing process. I would include the mother as well as the offspring in this generalized statement, as I understand it's quite an unavoidable and sometimes unwelcome process for the matron to experience. I unfortunately have recollections from moments after my trip down the slippery chute, and despite a conscious and therapeutic effort on my part to try and block these remembrances, they parade themselves through my mind in flashes that provoke my gag reflex.
The assault of all five senses during an event which is as far from sterile or even hygienic as you can possibly get, burned memories onto the few underdeveloped cerebral cells that I had as a piglet. I have resigned myself to the tortuous fact that they are here to stay.
I'll spare you the details, but be assured that the sight of nine other bald, mucus covered, mewling piglets, clambering over one another dragging trails of dirt, slime, bits of straw, excrement and other various barnyard materials, digging hooves into your sensitive pink belly and fighting and pushing you away from the one and only thing that you know you should be searching for.....well this experience would stand out vividly in your mind as well. Maybe I didn't spare details very well. Welcome to my Hell.
Fortunately for all 10 of us, we managed to pull ourselves together after this traumatic event, and learned quickly what we needed to do now on the outside of mother pig. At least, for about twenty four hours. Then our world was tossed upside down yet again.
To be continued on yet another day,
Yours truly,
Mr. PC Pig