Twenty-two years ago today, my daughter was born, seven weeks premature, delivered through an emergency C-section, after a high-risk pregnancy.
Daughter has heard me relate the story, over and over again: going for a regularly scheduled trice weekly check up, being told to go to the hospital immediately due to frequency and strength of contractions, driving myself to the hospital, trying to prevent a premature birth and being kept in the hospital for several days for observation, being told I'd be discharged at noon on Monday, being taken for one last monitoring before being discharged, being told I was not going any where except the labor room, spending the rest of the day and night in labor until I was taken in for the C-section on Tuesday morning, the observing student nurse feeling faint during the surgery, and my mother cutting the umbilical cord at the invitation of the surgeon.
Twenty-two years ago today, my mother and I cried tears of joy together at the miracle that was our baby. Twenty-two years ago today, I became a mother and my mother became a grandmother.
Happy birthday, Daughter. You are truly a blessing and a joy.