The Birth Day

My youngest is celebrating his 40th birthday today, far away from this home, but very close in my heart. I remember, of course, that day, from the first arrival at the hospital to being sent home because I was not in labor as defined by the military manual, and then the race to the delivery room because son was being born at home, not a circumstance his father wanted to handle.

When we arrived back at the hospital, it was 11:20 pm. The duty personnel were not waiting at the locked doors outside of which I crouched, doubled over, with continuous labor pains dedicated to birthing the baby NOW. When someone finally wandered toward the door to ask me what I needed, I thought the answer was obvious, but I had to explain that the baby was being born. Yeah, that worked: I was told that the doctor would determine whether the baby was, indeed, being born, and to sit in the lobby on a hard plastic chair and wait while he fetched the on-call doctor.

There was no doctor, but finally a nurse showed up and walked me (no wheelchair, no assistance) back to an exam room. She asked me if my water had broken, to which I replied, "no," then told me that I was probably not going to give birth until it did. When she asked me to climb up on the exam table so she could take a look, I did my best to comply, but the baby's head was "right there." She confirmed that the birth was not going to wait for anyone to find the missing doctor, who arrived in the delivery room simultaneously with the son, at 11:40 pm, April 26, 1971.

When the new baby came home the next day, his sister sat in the rocking chair in the living room and demanded to hold him. Somewhere, I have the picture of the first time she held him, the smile on her face confirmation that she really had always wanted a brother.

Most people think my daughter and I are alike because we physically resemble one another, but my son and I share personality traits in common. I have many fond memories, including our "Lethal Weapon" marathons, popcorn and Pepsi in hand. And, of course, there's the time I took him to see the Kevin Costner movie, "No Way Out," which begins with quite the steamy sex-in-the-limo scene, much to the dismay of the older women behind us, whose comments got us laughing so hard that I wasn't nearly as embarrassed as I should have been about the hot sex on the seat!!

We argue because we are both strong-willed and, how do I say this politely, committed to our own point of view (stubborn is the first word that comes to mind). Sometimes, we argue a point just because it's nice to have someone argue back and help us clarify what we think, but we both are to the ages when it's okay to let the other have his/her say and then move on with just a token response. Well, that is unless we discuss politics or the current President or any other topic that could even remotely cause an argument to ensue.

It has been the best of times, as well as the worst of times, just as it is in anyone's relationship, but I cannot imagine taking this journey without either my daughter or my son. They balance one another -- and then center me. My birthday is 6 weeks from now, another birthday that simply confirms the clock is ticking faster now than it was 40 years ago, when I looked forward to my lifetime with my children. Looking back ... well, it's hard to imagine that was 40 years ago!