My oldest daughter sent an urgent text message: MOM!!! What time was I born? MUST KNOW!!!
For those still new to parenting, you’d think I’d be able to text back with her birth time lickety split. You’d think that moment would be indelibly burned into my brain along with her weight, length and other vital statistics. You’d think so…but alas…it’s been a while since that moment. There have been several other births and lots of other numbers to remember like shoe sizes and prescription doses and GPAs. I remembered it was sometime at night, and I hate to admit this out loud but, I didn’t remember the exact time.
I rummaged through file folders to find her birth certificate but the official documents only listed her birth date, not her birth time. At this point, a mild sort of panic set in as I realized this was a critical fact I could not Google. Then, I remembered her baby book, tucked away in a bookcase. It was filled with handwritten notes, all about our birth, her babyhood and the first few months we spent together. Most of the entries were written in my hand, but some were written by my husband. They were sweet and brief and showed just how confused we were, how delighted and tired and very raw. It broke my heart a little to see the three of us right there at the beginning, knowing how precious and fragile those days are .