Most birthdays, for as long as I can remember, I have had the same morning telephone call from my dad. He would wish me a happy birthday and then launch into the same story. His starting words each year were the same: ‘I always remember, the day you were born. Jess, it was so sunny and the sun was coming in through the windows…’ and then proceed to tell me about my arrival into the world.
On my 30th birthday I affectionately mocked this annual storytelling in a somewhat drunken speech. BUT the next year when I did not have the same words and telephone call???? I really missed it! It is the same story year in and year out, but it did not feel like my birthday without it. So I called up my dad, ‘Dad? Can you tell me about the day I wad born?’
Being around a new mother, my sister, it amazes me how these birth stories are so unique. To talk about how a baby arrives in this world is so lovely and I wonder how all the parents we met at the hospital remember their baby arriving and what they might say on their birthday. Will they remember the feeling of the air outside the day? The darkness of the night? The midwife bringing them a hot drink and how good it tasted?
Now Steph and her baby and I are far away from the magical land of midwives and the strange world of hospitals… up in the air, level E of St Michael’s care and hospital life continues… When you are in it, you are in it. When you are out? You reflect, you reboot and you move forward. And it seems there is the whole world to explore. It was always there before but fresh eyes and feelings of new life make lots of the world around seem brand new.
For Baby Wolff? Exploration? Well staying cosy at home is enough right now…all in good time. When your life is merely days and hours and you are yet to have your first birthday cake? Snuggle up and soften into the world slowly. What a sweet sweet time…
More candles blown out for me today, May the 15th (picture from last year :-)!), and candles all in good time for Baby Wolff…
Baby Wolff, I always will remember the day you were born…
The sky was blue and the air was heavy with the promise of summer; the streets were quiet, time seemed still and different, the sun rose, and filtered through the leafy layers of Failand trees. I drove in to Bristol be with you for your arrival. 3 early morning Bristol balloons silently climbed into the air and to me, in that early morning quiet, driving down the lane contemplating your arrival, they seemed to come out for you.
And as your Aunty, you will be getting this story every year. It’s a nice one to tell.
And I hope I get my story today.