Dear Diary,
Today is the older one’s 18th birthday. The hub and I were talking about how clearly we remember the day she was born–going to the hospital with nary a contraction; waiting for hours before I was prepped for surgery; hearing the OB admit he thought baby girl would not survive her birth, the C section–after which she cried very weakly and failed her Apgar, the hub’s speedy exit to follow the ambulance carrying baby girl to the Children’s hospital for immediate aid. That day was paralyzingly scary and ultimately, over the next few days, overwhelmingly joyful. Her survival felt like the biggest win anyone could ever hope for.
The pandemic is a constant teacher about the elasticity of time, as stressful and traumatic events often are. Consistent with that, baby girl’s birth feels like it was a hundred years ago, and like it happened yesterday.
Unlike other days in lockdown, I want to draw this day out, and savor the thrill of being able to celebrate her EIGHTEENTH birthday….a notion so inconceivable the day she was born I would never have dared to think it….
Until tomorrow