December 13th is a big day. This year is particularly special, as we had a 14 and a 41, respectively born in 96 and 69, both on 12/13. When a child turns thirteen, it is the first year of having your own teenager, one you can sort of take as a training year, getting used to the whole idea of adolescence. Fourteen is different, it is official, she is not getting any smaller, any shorter, things can only go one direction from here on out.
I am so grateful for my lovely daughter, she is special in every way, Happy Birthday ma cherie!
I was very excited, when after sixteen hours of induced labor, Lily was born at midnight; which day was it? The doctor and the anesthesiologist consulted each other; one's watch said one minute to midnight, the other one minute after. "Can I have a say in this?" I vaguely remember croaking, my throat completely parched from drinking nothing since the morning before. "Sure, do you have a preference?" joked the anesthesiologist. My doctor, by then, knew I had an opinion on everything concerning birth, but neither of us expected it to extend to the very date. "Oui! The 13th! That's her papa's birthday!"
So it was that my first born and my husband share the same birthday. Happy Birthday, dear Pierre! Thank you for the marvelous gift of our children, our family.