Creating a New Birth Story

I tuck Nick in tight for bed and he wants to know again about the day he was born. A 9 pound screamer who had no interest in leaving his cozy place in my womb. He wanted no part of being wrapped up in that baby burrito blanket swaddling method and didn’t ever sleep through the night until we finally put him in the crib all by himself and he could spread out.

He likes to hear that story. I love telling him the story.

Yammi walks in.  I know she has been listening.

"What happened when I was born?" 

I try not to let her see sadness cross my face because, of course, I don't know.  We have to create a new narrative to share with her.  I want it to be one that she likes to be tucked into bed to. One she wants to ask about again and again. 

But honestly, I am at a loss for words. I want it so much to be beautiful and profound and perfect.  Just like the birth stories of her brothers.  Her story is imperfect and so different. 

So I stumble through a new story.  I begin by telling her the first time I saw her photo and how I cried. Just like her brothers.  I tell her we waited a long time and got her room ready.  Just like her brothers.  I tell her it took hours and hours from when we left to go get her until we had her safely in our arms.  Just like her brothers.

I stop stumbling and find the footing of this narrative for her.  So much is the same. 

I am able to add much to her story as time has gone on.  I have saved the pajamas she wore the night she first slept with us.  We always pull it out and look at how little they are and how big she is now.  Just like her brothers. 

The story we have created is different and yet so similar to that of Harris and Nick.  When you adopt an older child these are the moments you never imagined.

For never before in story or rhyme
(not even once upon a time)
Has the world ever known a you, my friend,
And it never will, not ever again...
Heaven blew every trumpet
And played every horn
On the wonderful, marvelous
Night you were born.   ~Nancy Tillman

And that I know for sure.

(You know you cried if you read that book to your children!)