NOVEMBER 25, 1998

November 25, 1998, somewhere just before 6:34am

First Dance Recital

It was the last moments before the birth.
My stomach tightened again.
I tossed to my other side.
My eyes closed, and I exhaled but would have rather cried.

My husband was to my right.
His brawny hand swept a damp tangle from my face.
He tapped my lips with a shiny spoon.
And another ice chip quenched my thirst.

The TV was on,

Buck

replaying the same football game for the fifth time.
I pointed to it, completely annoyed.
And he clicked it down.

Nurses milled in and out of my room.
Although one stayed by my side.
Equipment started pilling up
to my left and to my right.

The endless bleep of the heart monitor--a blessing...but yet also a curse.

My mom was in the rocking chair
Her rosary in hand.

Kate's in the pink.

My dad was pacing the hallways
And waiting...like daddy's do.

Our two boys were blissfully asleep
At home under Grampy's care.
I wondered what they would think,
When they woke to find mommy not there.

'80s girl for Halloween '09'

Back muscles clenched, tirelessly gnawing me.

The stiff pillowcase crinkled in my fists.
I gritted my teeth.
And though I fought valiantly, the pain was winning.

I rammed my forehead against the metal rail of the bed.
The cool felt good against my skin.
My husband's gentle voice said breathe.
But I was so tired. I just wanted to sleep.

Kate & Me '09'

With my final effort, the baby was born.
The air lightened.
The room brightened.
Blood flowed smoother through me veins.

And that's when I heard, "Honey, it's a girl."
The room went silent to me.
My ears deaf to any elation.
A blanket of pure calm covered me.

My eyes swelled. My heart filled.
And a touch from Heaven said, "See, I love you."

Tomorrow is not just Thanksgiving Day in our home. It's our daughter's birthday.

The year was 1998, and the Backstreet Boys were big. Saving Private Ryan was a huge box office bash. And the Broncos won the Superbowl.

Peace Out

Just Soccer

I grew up with my mom, dad, and a young brother, but also a houseful of other boys. My dad was a hockey and baseball coach. I would have died to have a sister.


Living in a house with four guys is nothing but interesting. Kate and I have stories upon stories. She's a good sport, like I was, but when I gave birth to our 4th child and it was yet another boy...Kate was devastated.

She was four years old at the time. Realizing we were outnumbered, genderly speaking, we made a Pinky Promise Pact. We pledged to forever be

"Special Sisters". I'm glad we did.

HAPPY 12TH BIRTHDAY, KATE!!

~I love you~

Mom