Today is my youngest daughter's fortieth birthday. I can remember that day as if it were yesterday. I was determined that this delivery would not be like the birth of my first child, Robyn -- I spent 36 hours in labor before she finally put in an appearance. She was beautiful and the baby I wasn't supposed to be able to have. My husband was in Vietnam and didn't see his first daughter until she was six months old. I promised myself that next time would be different.
So this time, when I began to have contractions and my husband wanted to take me to the hospital right away -- we were living in Madrid, Spain and the hospital was on the air base located twenty-two miles from our apartment near downtown Madrid. I persuaded him to wait for a bit to make sure it wasn't a false alarm. Finally about nine o'clock that evening I decided it might be time to go. We parked the car in the parking lot at the hospital and then I insisted on walking until I had a contraction, then we'd wait until it passed, turn around and walk the other way until the next one came. When we were almost turning around in a circle, I decided it was time to go inside the hospital. My beautiful daughter, Kerith Elena Kirkwood, was born about an hour later.
Now, how could that possibly have been forty years ago? Memories as clear and sharp as black and white photos. It was a great day then and it's a great day today.
Happy Birthday, my beautiful one!
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