A Birth on My Birthday

As the schedule filled with upcoming clients, I noticed someone had the same due date as the date I claimed as my own for all these years, my birthday. The day I entered the world bum first! June 27th at 12:34pm on a Sunday. Cancer and the year of the pig. 

I have had a sensitive relationship with my birthday over the years. It occurred just after the school year ended so there were no obligatory cupcakes in class and minimal displays of public hoopla as folks transitioned from yearlong burdens of classroom routines into freeform summer frolic. I became accustomed to suppressing my need for nameday fanfare but at the same time I swooned from well-wishers and jubilant recognition. 

One's birthday is a special thing. It marks the beginning, and a day to call your own -even though it’s probably shared with millions of other people. For me, it’s a 24 hour period of self-evaluation and renewal. What was I thinking the day before when I was one number less? Am I where I’m supposed to be for my age? Am I improving and contributing or just a passenger travelling in an orbit? I usually find transcendental satisfaction in my answers but I grapple with the subtle physical reminders of another lob around the sun.

Only 5% of babies are born on their estimated due date. This statistic assured me that such a coincidence would be a longshot and I should certainly be able to share a birthday dinner with my family that night. The days leading up to the big day were filled with work, home improvements, and appointments -a sort of vicarious nesting. And then it happened. 

My client’s process began on the afternoon of June 26th and I knew our timeline was about to take shape. I was called in to join her at 11:35 that night and I arrived at the hospital an hour, and a date later, June 27th. Here we were, full steam ahead on the labor train. She was progressing beautifully and for a period, we all had a calm moment to rest. I claimed an unimpressive wiry chair as my place to grab a few winks but contorting with a pillow for my head and a cub chair for my feet proved to be challenging beyond the realm of sleep. The bags under my eyes, my sore limbs, the churning cortisol releasing in my abdomen made me question why I do this work. Within a few hours, none of this inconvenience mattered because she was ready to begin pushing and meet her baby. 

We gathered round and helped her prepare for the next steps allowing her time to find her rhythm. The baby had labored down quite far which gave her an advantage for pushing. She immediately understood the assignment and efficiently brought him down and out. And there he was, 20 minutes later, 8:42am on June 27th. It was a beautiful start to the day. I was so happy for these new parents as the dad was uncharacteristically choked up and mom glowed with a new ebullience. Just a normal day of work for me, but my work is always remarkable and a notch more when I share a special date with a baby!