A Birth(day) Story

Thirteen years ago today, we both made it.

The fourth pregnancy was going fine for someone who already had a five year-old, a four year-old, and a two year-old. The two year-old was my only girl and this fourth pregnancy was supposed to be her sister, but I had failed in my Shettles Method attempt so another boy was on the way.

At 26 weeks my nesting mania hit and I decided I absolutely, positively was not going to endure one more second with hideous dark paint on the dining room walls. After breakfast, I grabbed a butter knife and went to work. The paint was covering some ancient textured wallpaper, which satisfyingly started peeling away as my butter knife carved it. Long strips of fresh wall peeked through. It was like peeling an orange, really. How long could the entire dining room take me, a few hours, max?

I scraped away for, at most, twenty minutes when suddenly I felt a tiny, almost audible, click in my chest. My heart started to race.

When I say race, I mean 210 beats per minute by the time my husband got me to the em…