Saturday, March 4, 2017
A Thank You, 50 Years Belated
Do you have any stories in your family that have become legendary over the years?
The story of my arrival to planet Earth is one of those stories for my family.
My parents got in to bed on February 27th, and my Dad looked into the mirror across from them and started laughing.
"You look like you are stealing someone's basketball," he said to my Mom, pointing to her perfectly round belly.
A few hours later, she woke him up to tell him it was time.
I was my Mom's seventh baby, and by that point she knew a thing or two about labor and delivery.
"Jack, call Mary."
Mary was our next door neighbor, who also very conveniently was a hospital nurse. They had made jokes about needing Mary's assistance with this one. This time, it was no joke.
There was only one problem. It was the last day of February, and the winter weather had blown in a terrible ice storm. Mary made her way, practically ice skating down the street to the house.
As my Dad chipped frantically at the ice on his car windshield outside, my Mom was breaking the news to Mary on the inside.
"Don't tell Jack, but we are not going to make it to the hospital."
And thus I was born, on the dining room floor of my parents new house in Michigan, with my six siblings upstairs bouncing on their beds in anticipation.
My parents named me after Mary, our sweet next door neighbor who saved the day. And they also named me after Rose, a dear family friend who would be my godmother.
I made this card last week to send to Mary...just a thank you, fifty years belated. I told her how thankful I was that she was there to welcome me into the world. And I also told her what an honor it has been to be named after such a sweet lady.