A tale of two birthdays

So, it's my birthday today. Or, at least it was anyway. I gave it away. I celebrated my last birthday 9 years ago today the day my beautiful little baby girl was born. I get to be 24 forever. Of course we didn't plan it that way, as with anything to do with my pregnancies, nothing ever goes as planned. Madison was due on Feb. 2, and of course back then we didn't know that 8 weeks early was standard for my babies.

On the morning of my 24th birthday however, I knew. I was already on bed rest, and I sat on the couch watching John and little Nicholas decorating the Christmas tree. The contractions were starting to come back, and the little bottle of pills the hospital had given me a week before seemed to be doing little to stop them. I thought there was nothing else the doctors could do. (and boy was I ever wrong!)

I could have gone back to the hospital that day, but I was already kind of busy. It was a Saturday, and Nick would be celebrating his third birthday the day before Christmas, and that was the best day that month to have his very first "friend party". He was my first child, and I wanted him to do all that fun stuff, so although it was my birthday I had still arranged to have a little party at one of those birthday places where they have games and rides, and they take care of all the work. (Lucky for me since I was supposed to be in bed!) I spent the entire party sitting at a table trying to deal with the worsening contractions all the while pretending like nothing was wrong. (I didn't fool anybody) We went straight from the party to the hospital and Madison Kirsten Berrett was born an hour later. She was a beautiful little 4 pound baby girl. And healthy, too. She only had to stay in the hospital for two weeks. Of course Nick knew she was a girl all along. From the moment we told him we were going to have a baby, to him it was his baby sister. We, on the other hand, had no idea. A friend of mine was telling me how she didn't like to find out beforehand the sex of her babies, she liked the idea of finding out at the hospital. "It's a girl!" The idea intrigued me, and John and I disagreed on the matter, but when it was time for the ultrasound I sat in the waiting room arguing with myself up until the moment the lady asked "So, do you want to know what it is?" Part of me wanted the surprise, but a stronger part of me needed to know, to be able to plan, and buy cute outfits, and all that stuff. "Yes!" I said! I needed to know! But then you know what? She kept her legs closed the entire time. The tech did her very best, but she could never see anything. (All my boys were a different story- they were more than happy to flash anybody who came by) I went into labor the first time on December 5th. Coincidentally that was the due date I was supposed to be born, but I was 6 days late. They were able to easily stop the contractions, and when they did another ultrasound, they asked again if we knew if she was a boy or a girl, and did we want to know. This time I was able to say "no". If I had come this far, what was another month? (Actually it was only a week, but I had no way of knowing that) We had no idea how long I was going to be able to stay pregnant. When I went to the doctor on Dec. 4th, I was 31 weeks along and reminded the doctor that my last baby was born at 32 weeks. He checked me out, and said "you look fine, I'll see you in two weeks." Of course I was in labor the very next day. I was hoping for a millennium baby. It was December 1999, and I had every hopes to have the very first baby born January 1, 2000. You can bet I would have spent New Years Eve out jogging around the neighborhood. John was positive she would have been born in January. For Christmas he gave me matching earrings and a pendant with garnets- January's birthstone. Other coincidences surrounding our birthdays are that we were born in the same hospital, and although I didn't realize when I picked my doctor, he was the son of the doctor that delivered me. For some reason the name came up in conversation with my mother one day. "Dr. Barton? My OB was a Dr. Barton." At my next visit I asked, and sure enough his father had delivered babies at that hospital back in the 70's and 80's. So she is of course the best birthday present I have ever received, and every once in awhile somebody asks me if it bothers me to share with her, and I can answer completely honestly, that no it doesn't. How could it bother me to share with such a sweet, wonderful little girl? (and my only girl) I am happy to share the day with her, or better yet just give the whole day to her. To her birthdays are still something to look forward to, they are exciting, and wonderful, and her excitement is contagious. I'm just glad she wants to share the day with me. I've already had all the "good" birthdays. I've already been 5, and 8, and 12. I can drive, I am way past dating (thank goodness!), I can vote, and sign contracts, and even buy alcohol if I were so inclined (which I'm not). So I am happy to stay in my early twenties for the rest of my life. I think in seven years, I'll make a minor exception to the rule. On that day she will be 16, and I will (technically) be 40. We're gonna have to plan something big.