Happy Birthday Frankie!

It's hard to believe you're 33 today!

Where does the time go?

It was 33 years ago on a Saturday morning, like today, that I started to bleed and my doctor decided that you would be born that day.

It was a tough pregnancy.

By this time I'd been in the hospital for over a month, as this pregnancy was considered high risk.  This was long before the quickie drive-by hospital stays that are the norm today.

The previous year I had Lydia, who had a litany of health issues and only lived for two weeks.  After two pregnancies in two years, we were advised to wait a while before trying for another child.  I knew that waiting wasn't an option because of fear and sadness that gripped me after losing her.  So, mere months after her death, I was pregnant with you.

With Ben, I had issues.

With Lydia, she had problems.

With you, it was my turn again.

I had placenta previa, a condition that was potentially life threatening, but I felt fine. So good in fact, I was lifting things and moving furniture, as we were setting up our new home, getting everything ready for your birth.

Well, therein was the problem.

I exasperated an already tenuous situation, and in my third trimester, I started to bleed and was hospitalized.  After a week or so, I begged to be released to go home because Ben needed me.  He was just shy of two years old.

My doctor complied.  I went home and foolishly went back to moving furniture. Again.

Color me stupid.

I had already lost one child.  You'd think I'd have the presence of mind to do everything in my power to prevent that from happening again.

What was I thinking?

I don't know where my head was.

Anyway . . .

Of course, I started to bleed again, and this time I was hospitalized for over a month, waiting for you to grow bigger and stronger to increase your chance of survival outside the womb.

So, early that Saturday morning, when I notified the staff of the bleeding, surgery was prepped and you were born.  It happened fast.  So fast in fact, that your dad didn't make it as he had to find someone to watch Ben.  By the time he arrived, you were born.

You looked so much like Lydia, it was hard at first.

The resemblance was remarkable.

You were both born a month early, weighing within an ounce of each other.

After you passed the two week mark, you started to fill out and come into your own person.  Or maybe, I started to see you as you, and not so much in her image.

One of my favorite memories of your birth was Ben's reaction to you.  He was tickled pink.  So excited to have a little brother.  That excitement didn't wane until you were five months old and started to smile.  Then he was done.

It took a while, but he came around again, and now I'm thrilled that you're best buds.

We've had some wonderful times, and some tough times, but through it all, I've been so proud of you.

Here's some advice, unsolicited though it may be.

That is . . . be happy.

Find your happy place and drop anchor there.

Do what makes you happy.

Be with people who make you happy,

But . . .

Understand that your happiness should never be dependent on someone else.

You have to be happy with you, and for you.

Other people are responsible for their own happiness.

I realize this seems like a contradiction, but I promise, it's not.

It took me twenty years to figure that out.

Ok.

No more advice . . . today.

Just love.

Happy birthday Frankie!