This one is for Monday's Child

Thirty years ago tomorrow I had a morning doctor's appointment. I was nearing the birth of our second child. It was coming down to the once a week appointment when you feel like you ought to have gone into labor yesterday. We didn't know the sex of the baby since it was before such things became the norm. We already had an adorable little blond-headed boy who was 20- months-old. He could say, "the baby is coming out of mommy's tummy" in his little precocious toddler voice. We already had all the necessary baby items from his recent birth. I hadn't purchased anything new, but I had handled everything pink that JC Penny's carried in the baby department. It's a wonder they didn't ask me to leave the pink sleepers alone since I was going almost daily to pick them up and put them down again. We didn't have the budget to buy just anything we had a whim to buy. We did have the budget to buy groceries, gas, pay our bills, and go out to eat once each paycheck, but no money for pink sleepers that might have to be returned. We'd never been happier. Budget, smuget. Our toddler gave us joy on a daily basis; Our lives of building this little family stretched ahead of us as a world of possibilities. But I couldn't get "pink" off my mind. I was afraid to hope, afraid to think of myself bundling up big brother and little sister to go out in the Colorado snow to play. Now DON'T get me wrong. I would have loved another little boy with all my heart (and I do love my second boy with all my heart), but I had "pink" fever. Bad. I grew up with all boys, three brothers. I WANTED A GIRL. I WANTED TINY PINK SLEEPERS! I could only think in a whisper about the dresses I would sew . . . little white collars . . . little smocked jumper . . . all worn with little Mary Jane shoes.

I went to that appointment while a friend watched big brother in waiting. I thought I would be back in an hour or so. However when the doctor did his examination he said I wasn't going anywhere except to the hospital. Those contractions I had been having weren't Braxton Hicks after all. I had driven myself to the appointment but no one was letting me drive away. David had taken the bus to work that day as usual. I had to call him to come to the doctor's office and escort me to the hospital pronto. He managed to find a ride with a friend (who was single at the time and wasn't accustomed to such emergencies:). Long story short, we finally got to the hospital and got on with the business of birth. After about 12 hours of labor it was time for the great push. (With all three of my babies I was a good pusher. I guess I can be proud of that since I was a terrible laborer). So, push I did. Out she came. Out SHE came. SHE. As in, SHE will be wearing PINK. My obstetrician was a real kidder so when he said, "it's a girl," I didn't believe him. I asked about ten times if he was sure "it" was a girl. Finally David said "Sherri, it's a girl" and I believed him. My dreams of bundling up big brother and little sister had come true. We had a beautiful little girl to be little sister to our beautiful little boy. I was so excited that I didn't sleep that night. I looked at her a million times. Ok, I must confess. I didn't look at my first born a million times because after 30+ hours of labor having him I was dead to the world. With baby #3 (Thursday's child) I knew from experience to get all the sleep I could get while in the hospital. Apologies to my boys.

Anyway, here we are 30 years later. Monday's child now has a child of her own. She did wear a zillion dresses that I made for her. She always thought they were wonderful, beautiful, and never wanted dresses from the store rather than the ones I made for her. She had at least 15 pairs of Mary Jane shoes over the years, though her favorite shoes were always her red Keds with the bumper toes. By the age of three she could strike a pose worthy of a magazine while I draped a bolt of fabric around her to see if it "was her color." She was also able to hold her own with any of the boys. She could jump off the diving board at age three. She broke her arm rounding third base. She was a heck of a soccer player. She hung in there to get an engineering degree, and then a master's to boot.

So, here is to Monday's child . . . May you enter your thirties with grace and wisdom, and wearing pink (or at least some girlie color that looks good on you:).

Love you.

Mom