I will tell them.

Today is the day that our two children were born. Yes, the same day, two years apart. No, it was not planned. No, I was not induced by my doctor. My water broke at home with both children, fortunately my bags were packed and ready. My mother would tell me the story of my birth every year without fail. No matter, even when I left home for college and marriage, she called first thing, October 9, to tell me again and again. I learned to cherish this call, for you see, it is my special story that began my life. She remembered every little detail of the day and told it with such love I knew I was wanted and loved. So, on this special day, May 25, I tell my son and daughter of their special day. The day they share with themselves and their grandmother. My son was born on Lynnie's 50 th birthday and my daughter was born on her 52 nd birthday. I can remember every detail of these two days, two years apart. I remember my doctor telling me the due date of our daughter, May 25, and I thought, no way, Bill was born on that day. This day forever changed our lives. I learned what the love of a child means. I felt the fullness of joy in the bundle cradled in my arms. I became less concerned about me. I learned to breast feed, bathe a newborn, change a diaper, rock to sleep, sing a lullabye, watch them sleep, hear their cry, know their smell, feel their warmth, learn their needs, watch them grow. Today they are 15 and 13. We always get a Baskin Robbins chocolate chip-chocolate ice cream cake with candles. We sing the song. We call their grandmother. Then we tell them their special story. The day that they share, but the day that began who they are. No matter how many times the story is told from phone calls to broom closets to a little blue farmhouse off the road, I will feel the lump rising in my throat from the love that floats up. I will remember the tenderness seeing our babes for the very first time. I will cherish how the names we picked out were just perfect. I will take their picture with my camera and my heart. I will tell them I love them, even more with each year. Then, I will stop to thank my husband for being my gift on August 16, 1986. For giving our children noses that turn up, my son his deep voice, my daughter thick eyebrows, confidence to be free, knees that turn slightly inward, fire for living, and for giving me two presents money can't buy. I will tell them.