My dear baby Kate turns twelve-years-old tomorrow. Twelve fun, crazy, snuggly, dreamy years. Her life is a gift to all who know her. She is funny, smart, beautiful, honest, compassionate, curious, strong . . . oh, how I love this little girl.
Remembering the birth of my second (and last) baby:
January 25, 2001
1. It was a Wednesday night, ten days before my due date
2. Gary and I had lunch at our favorite chinese restaurant where I had a bowl of Hot & Sour soup (I could not get enough of that stuff when I was pregnant with her)
3. I'd been feeling uncomfortable all day. Around 11 p.m. I was darn uncomfortable so we took the party over to the hospital
4. I didn't want any pain meds, much to the distress of my labor nurse who seemed very upset at seeing me in pain and kept trying to talk me into drugs (What the heck?! she was a LABOR NURSE for pete's sake. I should've had someone stab her with some sort of valium shot.)
5. I had been "feeling" like maybe I was having a boy but the whole night I kept getting images of two little girls playing on the beach on the Oregon coast
6. and . . . it was a girl! (oh joy — a sister for Emma!)
7. She was born at 6:15 a.m., 6 lbs. 11 oz.
8. We couldn't decide: Katherine or Lucy. She was Lucy for her first hour of life, then she became Katherine . . . baby Kate
9. Settled in our room an hour later Gary pulled back the curtains from the window. It had been snowing like crazy all night. Everything was blanketed in piles of white. It was still coming down hard — millions of huge, swirling, silent flakes, falling from the sky
10. I felt like the world was magical and life was perfect, and I knew Kate and I would always be friends
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