Today I turn 36.
I’m sure of this because I asked my husband, and he’s good at math. I remembered I was born in 1982; he commented it was 2018; I said I couldn’t do the math, and he said, “You’re 36.”
Well, and here I was thinking that I was older.
Because birthing stories are never boring, I decided to call my parents to find out about mine, and my dad answered. I asked him what he remembered about my birth. The first thing out of his mouth was, “Well, there were five deer standing on the north side of the driveway. It was snowy.” And that was it.
So I asked my mother how it went. You see, I am the Firstborn, which is always exciting because as you know, mothers and fathers have absolutely no clue what’s going on with Baby Number One. And apparently I also offered some excitement for the little, rural hospital where I was born too. For nobody else was having babies at the time, and those nurses were all bored and probably standing around the front desk smoking cigs. In fact, I was the first baby of the year born there, and I had my photo taken for the newspaper. This is my special Claim to Fame.
My mother said that she and my dad went to a New Year’s Eve party a few days before I was born, where everyone kept asking her, “When are you gonna have that baby?” Her response was, “Tonight!” Well, that didn’t happen, but on the morning of the 2nd she awoke with a pain. So, at 8am she waddled out to the car and off they drove, apparently right by five deer in the snow.
Now as my mother was saying this, I could hear my dad in the background adding, “That car was a 1980 AMC Eagle. Silver, and quite a fancy one.” Then my mother added, “Well, and we needed that car like we needed another hole in our heads.” And he responded with, “It was one of the first four-wheel-drive cars made. And was a good one.”
Anyway, I was born at 6:28pm, and my mother was happy because I was normal. Evidently she was pretty worried about that because I wouldn’t come out at the end of all that labor, so the doctor had to use some scary-looking tool – a forceps – to yank me out, which left a scrape alongside my upper right cheekbone. (Look very closely at the above picture for the scab.) So, besides my head being cone-shaped, which took her a little by surprise, she was thankful and happy to learn that scrapes do heal.
And so here I am, 36 years later, mostly normal, even though I was bottle fed and diapered with cloth and safety pins, which my mother said was “crappy.” (They couldn’t afford the fancy disposable diapers.)
Happy Birthday to me. And Happy Birthday to St. Therese the Little Flower; she was also born on January 2, but in 1873.
St. Therese, pray for us.