Boys, boys, boys. For fourteen years, our family was blessed with them. My nephew made his entrance on Halloween night (all three pounds of him) as the first of my parents' grandchildren sixteen years ago. We liked boys so much, my sis and I blessed the family with four more over the next eight years. Go Tonka trucks, John Deere tractors and anything dirty!
And then She graced us with her presence . . . a surprise in every sense of the word. Two years ago, as doctors and nurses took bets while they waited, I labored. I held out hope for a girl, but with a record like ours, I wasn't banking on that happening. Plus, we had a girl's name picked out but couldn't agree on one for a boy. Murphy's Law was pointing blue.
I still remember my nurse for that day. I absolutely loved her. And it was she who asked when the baby was finally born after hours of impatient waiting and upping Pitocin and agonizing over an epidural, "Did you see?" Her face positively glowed.
"Did I see?" I asked, confused. "See what? Oh, no. No -- I didn't see! I was too busy looking at the beautiful face and dark head of hair!" I looked frantically for the telling end, but the doctor had the baby turned over. All I saw was a sweet, scrawny bum. I looked at the nurse's face and demanded an answer. "No, I didn't see -- what is it?!"
She hesitated briefly then blurted, "It's a girl!"
my birthday girl
a camera to capture fleeting moments
pink poodle purses and a pink tricycle
joy on everyone's faces
years of boy things to enjoy, boogers and all
The Thinker placing in his last Rain Gutter Regata
surprising warm weather to play outside
warm blankets and hoodies when the days got cold again
cold, starry skies
a God who gives birthdays
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