MY birth story.

There is one story that never gets old. It stands the test of time. It never loses its luster. Today is my 33rd Birthday. And, each year on my birthday, my Dad tells me the story of the day I was born. You see I was eight and eleven years younger than my siblings. Although I have never been told, I think that I may have been an unplanned addition or one that wasn’t particularly mapped out…until IT happened.

My Dad was the first one to hold me – the nurses passed me to him right away. I got his blue eyes. What he doesn’t know is that I feel lucky because the first person I ever met in this world is still the nicest person I have ever known. He is gracious, incredibly humble, genuine and most of all, kind.

My mom often tells me how she never put the idea of having a third child far out of her mind. She wasn’t certain there would BE a third but, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being incomplete. As I contemplate my own circumstances now that I am a mother {of two}, I feel closer to those words than ever before. Deciding to have children was the easiest decision I have ever made. Deciding when my family is complete is far more difficult.

Mom and Dad, thank you for listening to your heart and for bringing {one more} baby in to the world. I am the lucky one.

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