Start Your Day Right; Have a Baby

Today is our daughter Jamie's birthday. We got a text thanking us for a card we sent (via banjobunny.com, very creative cards) and I asked John what time of day she was born. He is responsible for six of our children and I contributed two. He said she was born at night and it was cold but not snowing. I said mine came in the morning: start your day right, have a baby. I said it to be funny, but it is a profound statement. I was thinking yesterday of the moment 40 years ago when I heard from my doctor's office that I was pregnant for the first time. This was before drugstore pregnancy tests and I had spent the day with my mother, distracting myself until the time they had said I could call for results, with a trip to Park Forest, the first shopping mall near our home. It was a 30-minute drive and then that was a big deal, especially in the winter. My mother was very anxious about driving in the snow.

This was shortly after Thanksgiving and we looked around for bargains, buying very little as I remember. Then we had lunch in the Marshall Field's tea room. It was a quiet, muted restaurant with thick carpet and pink tablecloths and all women servers. A far cry from the Food Court at my local mall where I grabbed a lunch of Chinese food yesterday after my date with my Apple at the Genius Bar. Back then, we probably had something traditional like chicken salad or shrimp Louie, followed by a cup of coffee, not decaf, and a cigarette for my mother. This was before smoking sections in restaurants. I could hardly wait to get home to call for the news that could change my life. And the news was positive.

Nine months later, I woke up at six in the morning in Berlin, Germany, with strong cramps and a backache. My husband was serving in the Army and he drove me in our blue Volkswagen bug through the city streets where we passed a construction worker tipping a bottle of beer to his mouth. My first child would have been born in the morning except for the fact that there were three other women, one a friend, in labor at the American hospital and one doctor. I was the last to deliver so his arrival was just after 1 pm. He was the largest at 9 pounds 4 ounces. The smallest was a preemie, a little girl. There was another big boy and my friend's daughter, who she named Valerie because her husband wanted a boy so badly, he refused to choose a girl's name. She picked the name because I was handy. I often wonder what happened to that little Valerie.