Friday, 1 March 2013

Remember Your Birthday?

A couple of weeks ago, I printed out baby photos for Perran and Carenza’s birthday party and we looked at them together. 

For years, you don’t talk about the baby stuff.  I have good friends whom I’ve known for over a decade and we haven’t shared birth stories. 

But now, Perran and Carenza have started asking.

It’s good to be able to say yes, I breast fed you. 

It also brings back what a disrupted, chaotic time it was.

“I’m not sure what your first words were, though I do remember you both trying to say flower.” 

“I’m not sure when you walked – just before your first birthday.”

“You were born in the middle of the night.  I’m certain of that because it was dark.”  

The tag from the hospital falls out of a photo album and reveals that, in fact, they were born just after midday.

In for a penny, in for a pound.  I confessed how for several years I had mistakenly celebrated their birthday on Feb 9th instead of Feb 5th, until my friend Gina prompted me to check by saying  – actually the ninth is my birthday and I’m sure I would have remembered if you’d had your twins then.

They stare at me with unblinking eyes.  If their own mother can get their birthday wrong…

It is clear that I have taken confession too far and rocked their world.