My older brother Paul was the middle child born to my parents. His birth is one that many women would wish for and fear all at the same time. My Mother went to her doctor appointment, an hour away from home, one week before her due date. The doctor checked her and told her nothing was happening, he’d see her next week as scheduled. So she and her friend, who was due around the same time, left and spent the rest of the afternoon shopping and eating ice cream sundaes. As they were pulling out of the town, my Mom’s water suddenly broke. Her friend who was driving took the next exit and drove right back to the hospital. As the two of them were laughing about how upset the friends husband was going to be about the water breaking in his brand new car, they wheeled my Mother in a wheelchair to the exam room. Upon checking her they determined she was having this baby right now and they quickly shuffled her off to the delivery room where my brother was born minutes later. My Mom says she doesn’t even remember having a contraction. Epic. Frightening. Magical. All in one.
The following is a text message conversation I had with my brother yesterday afternoon:
Me: Have you ever heard the story of when you were born?
Paul: You shouldn’t be drinking, you’re pregnant.
Me: Haha…. No seriously!
Me: It’s pretty amazing and makes me hope that birthing experiences are not hereditary!
Paul: What, water breaks then child? That fast?
Me: Yes! And Dad couldn’t get there in time! Not like he’d have been in the room anyway, back then. But yikes!
Paul: I’ve been the easiest kid since birth. What can I say.
Me: You win.
Paul: You afraid if you have that boy in the driveway, you’ll have to name him “Quick Ritchie”? Sounds better anyway.
Me: I would prefer the sweet hospital room!
Paul: Good luck. Tell Mark to get his mitt out.
Me: Thanks for the pep talk.
Paul: Any time.
I love my brother.