For the third time, I am pregnant on my birthday. For the second time, I’m not supposed to be.
To be truthful though, I wasn’t pregnant for much of my birthday the first time – just five hours and forty-three minutes, to be exact. And then the Princess was born, the best birthday present I have ever gotten.
At this time eight short years ago, I was holding my newborn and being injected with Methergine since it had been a fast labor and the bleeding wouldn’t let up. I didn’t want to eat or drink. I didn’t want to sleep. I just wanted to hold this amazing creature that had finally decided to show up. Only after a few hours did I realize that it was my birthday, too.
As we packed up and got ready to leave the birth center, I got a call from Mr. MG – he was layed over on his way home from Panama, but would be in that night. For a week. The poor man was so tired the entire time he was home, I doubt he remembers much of it.
And here we are now, and here she is. We didn’t know it then, but the Princess was born to be a big sister, to be the eldest. She is neat, tidy, ultra-responsible, and has a zeal for bossing her brother. Mix that with a vocabulary that sprouts from her insatiable reading habits, and it’s hard not to expect her to be twelve instead of eight.
Sometimes I forget and think, “Why can’t you just act your age?!” Then I remember – oh, yeah… she is. The rest of the time I am panicking because it is going so fast, too fast, and I haven’t said enough I love you’s or given her enough snuggles before I know she is going to start pulling away to be even more of her own separate person. And because I am an all-or-nothing sort of gal, I veer wildly between frustrated distance and outright smothering her.
Tonight we will share our birthday. There is nary a twinge of contraction, so it will remain a two-person birthday. (She said she would like her sister to kindly not be born today. There’s sharing, and then there’s asking too much.) This is one link we will have that she will never grow out of.
Happy Birthday, Princess.