...The One Where I Had A Baby
My first child (the doctor guessed from the ultrasound that it was a boy, but said that if he was wrong, not to tell anyone) was due on December 2, 1977. She (sorry, Doc) didn't arrive until December 22. So much for my plans to have been in and out of the hospital, feeling fine, wrapping presents, baking cookies and going to parties, all while mothering a newborn. Christmas morning found me in the hospital recovering from a Cesarean. But I was so high on joy, I felt no pain. I was being treated like a queen because I had just given birth to a real live princess. (My delusions of royalty were, perhaps, fueled by the fact that my mother-in-law, Hilma, was head nurse in OB.)
Meagan will tell you that it's kind of bummer having a birthday so close to Christmas. I know what she means, but we've always tried to keep the two occasions separate. It wasn't what I had planned, but you know what they say--if you want to make God laugh, just tell him your plans. Now, of course, I can see that the way things happened were just exactly perfect. I love that my daughter's birthday falls during the busiest time of the year, amid all the planning and celebrating. It's a perfect excuse for me not to make birthday cakes. (Just to prove that point, I've actually made a few disastrous attempts. No one even asks anymore.) Merry Christmas and Merry Meagan!!
1 comment:
A perfect little Christmas present! Nice story, Kate.
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