What will our son look like?
Will he look more like me or Joel?
Either way, he's going to have big ears. Sorry kid.
It's my birthday today and the only thing my mind can seem to focus on is our son's birthday in the near future. When will he arrive? What will he look like? What will be the story I tell him the morning of his birthdays?
Following tradition, my mom called me this morning and recited the story of when I was born. She went into labor late the night before, dropped my brother & sister off, and labored all night long. The nurses were more worried about my pale-faced Dad in the corner and kept offering him food. My mom tried to postpone my delivery until her doctor could get there because she had heard horrible things about the doctor on-call. I was persistent, so her plan was ruined. I was born at 7:50am. The doctor was a middle-eastern man with a very thick accent. When I was born he kept saying "A beautiful baby girl! A beautiful baby girl!" He asked my mom what they would name me and she told him, "Emily Elizabeth." "Oh!" he exclaimed, "You've taken all of the beautiful names!" About 15 minutes later they changed my name to Sara because I needed a "stronger name." Labor was not kind to my face--it was swollen and puffy, my nose was smushed down, my lips were gigantic and my chin stuck out so far it literally cast a shadow! My parents were worried the name Emily was too dainty for this monstrosity they created. All I needed was some beauty sleep, people. My mom always ends the story telling me how alert I was from the moment I was born. She would shake her cup of ice chips and my eyes would perk up and follow her cup as she moved it side to side. "You've always been bright," she says. And, having seen it all on video tape, I'll always remember how happy my dad was that morning. I'm the third child and they already had one of each gender; nonetheless, he doted on me like I was the first and only baby to come into this world. I am blessed to have such a loving set of parents.
I appreciate my mother even more now that I am pregnant (and I haven't even been through labor yet!). This birthday I am more grateful for her than anything. I genuinely feel blessed to take part of this tradition of sacrifice that has been passed down from woman to woman, generation to generation. It is divine. I look forward to holding each of my babies the mornings of their special day and reciting all of the painful, funny, and tender details of their own birth stories. Birthdays are the best sort of memories.