Why I love my older brother…

Paul, Me and Andi - 1979

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!

Paul:  Why?

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.


2 thoughts on “Why I love my older brother…

  1. Yes sir, Paul sounds like a calm, level headed, middle brother that was book ended by two sisters. He didn’t want to be first born, and didn’t want to born last. And, look at the size of the fishing pole he’s holding. He’s not going after sun perch, he’s going after sturgeon. If you were having Enzo in Morrow county I’m sure Paul would be the first one at your door with the squad car to deliver you to the hospital. Oh, the Love of a big brother.

  2. That story is wonderful and your conversation with Paul is priceless! May you have a quick and easy delivery, dear! Paul will be working in South Morrow County for a while so he will stop in and see Grandma at the “big house” which always stirs up a commotion. HA! I tell everyone it is her probation officer. Love it! Keeping you in our thoughts!

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