junecleavage

My daughter was born on Valentine's Day - fourteen years ago. She wasn't supposed to be. She was due on the 28th. I don't believe in prayer or God or any of that crap but I had so many bad memories affiliated with that day (death, despair and destruction - not just no one to send me a Hallmark card) that I got down on my hands and knees and begged of my dear grand father who had died on that day to please give me something to celebrate. In the middle of the night, my water broke...like in the freaking movies...which NEVER happens...usually the doctors break your water for you. And 21 hours later, nearly into the day of the 15th, my darling girl popped out. In the past, I had said it made me believe in Angels to some extent. I don't know that I still believe in that - but the idea of letting go? Letting nature take over and cure the pain? Paying dues? Karma?
Yeah...all that... somehow makes sense to me.
And here we are..dangerously teetering on her fourteenth year.
If I don't have a nervous breakdown before Monday, we will celebrate...and mourn...because really they go hand in hand when you are a parent, don't they?