Today is my colleague Graham Cawthon's birthday. My husband, Stephen, will also be celebrating this weekend - he turns to big 3-0 Monday.
Until I became a mother, my birthday was all about me. I never really thought about what it meant to my own mother. If not for her, I wouldn't be here at all.
January 20 was cold the year I was born. It was snowing and my mom - who had toxemia (preeclampsia) - was induced. Her blood pressure was so high it's a miracle I'm even here. Suddenly, Jan. 20 wasn't just another day - it turned into the day her first child was born.
May 21 is the same for me. Nathan was due May 28, but decided to try and make his way into the world a bit early. My water broke May 20 and I labored the afternoon into the next morning, when at 8 a.m. my OB decided a C-section was in my best interest.
Just like my mom, I'm going to make a big deal out of Nathan's birthday, and it will be his day. But in the back of my mind now I'm not only going to think about Nathan and how wonderful it is to have him every May 21 (and every second of every day, for that matter), but I'm also going to send a silent thought to my own mother - she gave me the most precious gift ever: my life and a chance to create another life.