Nine years ago today,

Death nearly invaded our bodies, Ezra and I. I saw stars. He nearly didn't see the light of day. Thanks to some quick activity and thinking of the medical people, we are both here to celebrate nine years of rebirth. It was like a saga. Pitosin, blacking out and then waking up with warm blankets over my freezing body. Questions, where is the baby? Where am I? Why aren't they bringing him? They must be notifying next of kin? Was the answer my fertile mind came up with. I am next of kin. Notify me. Where is he? I had just been to 2 funerals in a row and the one that I averted was my own and my baby's. Oh my, here he is. What a bright boy, to have smiled upon the first entrance with us. He must have had some of the same questions in his mind. He recognized us in spite of the trauma, the drugs of gas going through the bloodstream and the hullaballoo of the nursery. I waited my whole life to meet you, I tell the squirt. Nine is not much of a squirt anymore. He wants so much and he is in personality, the most like Ben of the bunch. I ran out in the rain, this morning to get the cupcakes for the class. I gave him a birthday kiss. His list of wants is through the roof. "Will it be a presentless birthday this year?" Some years it has been. I don't think so, I reply. We are grateful to have another year to reminisce of the funerals that led up to the birth that was almost a complete catastrophe. The boy who is the wonderful rounding out of our quiver. Matching couplets. And one in heaven.

Thank Heaven!