I can vividly remember July 4, 1998. I was four days overdue with my firstborn son and we were celebrating Independence Day with my family at our home (since I theoretically could deliver any minute we were not risking any travel.)
We were sitting on our back porch when I felt Mr. B's little elbow poke me from one side of my belly to the other. And everyone watched in amazement (seriously it was that noticeable...like a little wave rippling across my stomach.) Then my Daddy, ever the jokester, laughed about how fun it would be if Mr. B was born on July 8, his birthday.
I'm not sure of my exact words to him, but I remember thinking what a cruel joke...surely I wouldn't be 8 days late. THAT would be torture. I was so ready to NOT be pregnant. And 4 more days seemed like an eternity.
Well, you guessed it, Daddy was right and we welcomed our Mr. B to the world on July 8.
Now, two family birthdays on the same day are not unheard of (in fact my mom and sister share the same birthday). But there is one more family member celebrating a birthday on July 8 - my grandpa. So with the birth of our little man, I had successfully created a birthday trifecta. Three generations born on one special day.
Today, Mr. B turns 11. Officially entering the tweens (at least in my mind.) As I write this, I'm filled with mixed emotions. My baby boy, well, he's no longer a baby. He's a complex blend of exuberance and seriousness. He's fun loving and mopey. Caring and self-centered. Smart and absent minded. All mixed into one.
But his laughter and smile, well, they simply melt my heart.
As we celebrate your birthday today, my son, know that I love you completely. Unconditionally. I will always be there to celebrate your many successes (and I know there will be many) and catch you when you fall.