Just in from Mother:
My dear son,
Thirty years ago today your father took me out for Chinese food. He was astonished at how much I ate and commented on it. When we got home he took a picture of me lying on the bed in my red summer maternity dress. I felt sooooo huge, even though I'd only gained 26 pounds.
Later that night at precisely 3:15 am I woke up because my water broke. I took a shower, packed my bag and we went to St. Joe's hospital, which was right down the street from our first house. It had just started to sprinkle a little early monsoon rain. With no medication, and my mind on my breathing technique, and pain out of this world, I gave birth to you at exactly 3:15 pm. You took exactly twelve hours to arrive! You had black eyes and a full head of black hair. We had two boy's names picked out, no girl names because I just knew I was having a boy-- back then they didn't do the pics to see the sex. The two names were Beholdmyswarthyface and Brett, and your dad and I decided you looked more like a Beholdmyswarthyface.
Your father was crying and they bundled you up and propped you on my chest, we looked at each other and that was it-- my baby boy was here, 7 lbs. 11 oz.
The extended family was all in the waiting room and so very excited that you were here. Grandma and Joe, Nannie and Grandpa Hugh, Grandpa Cigar and Pat, Auntie and Uncle Paul, Uncle Michael, Cousin Dorcus, Nancy Monaco, Aunt Vasgon and Uncle Norm (Grandma Hasmig got stuck watching Vasgon's kids at the house and was pissed off that she was not at the hospital).
The next morning your father drove us home, and the family all slowly started flooding the house (including Grandpa Cloyd Nesmith and his mistress Stella). Grandma Lillian and Grandma Hasmig stayed with us that next week, and whenever you cried we were all there, including Father.
Our dog at the time was a German shephard named Blue, because he had only one eye, which was blue. My little "Green" (like Joni Mitchell's song) was here.
Happy Birthday, my son,