Twenty years later

Twenty years ago at this time I was heading into my forty-fourth hour of labor; my oldest son would not make his appearance until hour 51, in the small hours of December 30. He arrived in considerable distress and was whisked off to the NICU, where he was ventilated and X-rayed and respiratory-therapized.

These days he is tall and handsome and opinionated and hilarious. I am going to spend a chunk of tomorrow making him a spectacular birthday cake. In two more hours I will cease to be the mother of three teenagers, at least until 2018. Instead I'll be the mother of a boy entering his third decade.