The Birthday Story

It's officially here! My 45th birthday! I'm not like a lot of people who don't care to observe the passing of time, who cringe at the mention of another birthday.
January 11th is the one day of the year when it's all about me.  It's a time to whoop and holler and have a little thrown down because honestly, growing a year older beats the alternative any way you look at it. 

My Facebook page was filled with well wishes for the day. Students were eager to remind me how old I was, and colleagues gave me a beautiful card. My family gathered for pizza and Tuxedo cheesecake from The Chocolate Bar, but my day wouldn't have been complete without my special birthday story told by Dad.

He usually calls me early in the morning before I leave for school to relate the tale of my entrance into the world. But this year, he emailed. I found out later that he was on his way to the hospital with chest pains. Turns out he didn't want me to worry on my birthday.


There isn't anything particularly remarkable about the story of the day I was born, but I love to hear him tell it. The details change a bit from year to year as my dad grows older. This is part of the email he sent this morning:

Happy Birthday No.1 (This is a family joke between my sister and me! I am the oldest)  Sure doesn't seem like 45 but numbers don't lie. I waited a long time for you at the hospital. There was no one there except your mother and maybe one or two more. Business picked up and they had me come and sit with your mother.  I waited and waited and they had even given her another labor shot. We were over thirty hours at this point and I was running out of gas.


Now about this time Grandma Holmes (my maternal grandmother, a feisty little thing who liked to run the show ) shows up and she takes over telling what her doctor book says. She has the sheet covering your mother raised checking on dilation and explaining what it says in... you guessed it, "The doctors book". My mom and dad had arrived earlier and he had asked me if I had breakfast yet. No was my answer and he said let's go across the street to the diner. I then realized that  I had not eaten since your mom arrived and was admitted to the hospital. We finished up, and I told Dad that I needed to get back. I said to him... Grandma Holmes might decide to do a C-Section. Well, when we returned, there you were in your mother's arms staring up at the ceiling. I am not sure who was the most worn out. 

When he finishes, I always remind him that I was worth the wait, and that I'm sure my mother would have told the story from a slightly different perspective. He smiles, agrees, and I say a silent prayer that he'll be here next year to tell it again.