If you don't get older, you die young

There are many family members and friends celebrating birthdays this month. Some are excited about the "milestone", some are apathetic and some are down right annoyed that they have to add another year to their age. My father always said, "if you don't get older, you die young." Is that why we celebrate? The fact they we have survived another year?

Some birthdays are recognized as a right of passage. Turning 18 or 21 welcomes one into adulthood. Depending upon your jurisdiction, you can now vote, possibly buy alcohol, drive, purchase lottery tickets and enlist in the military. You can also be sued and tried as an adult in criminal court.

Reaching 50, 55 or 65, welcomes you into "old age". When I was in my twenties, we feared 30; the age which we could "no longer be trusted." Catholics and Anglicans confirm twelve and thirteen year olds in religious adulthood. The Jewish faith taps their twelve and thirteen year olds with a bar mitzvah or bat mitzvah. In Islam, the legal age for girls is 9 and 15 for boys. In the U.S., sweet sixteen is a coming out party for many young girls; while the Hispanics celebrate quinceanera marking the girls' 15th birthday.

We make holidays out the birthday of presidents, explorers and civil rights leaders. Elvis's birthday is marked by a huge pilgrimage of fans to Memphis, Tennessee. We bow our heads in memory of departed family members on their birthdays and pray on our "Saint's Day."

According to public record, birthdays are generally, evenly distributed throughout the year. However, according to Anybirthday.com there are more birthdays in October and September, respectively. The most frequent birthday is October 5th; and, the least frequent birthday is May 22nd (I actually know two people who were born on May 22nd). The September and October births are attributed to the nine month period following the holidays of Christmas and New Year's. I guess the November babies are the result of those cold, northern winters.

Origins of the birthday celebration are rooted in superstition. In the early centuries of Western civilization, it was believed that evil spirits were particularly attracted to people on their birthdays. In ancient times, people prayed over an open fire, believing the smoke would carry their thoughts and wishes to the gods. So it seems, to protect the birthday girl or boy from harm, friends would gather to bring good thoughts and brought gifts to provide even more cheer to ward off the evil spirits. Eventually the "open fire" was replaced by the candles. Up until the fourth century, Christianity viewed the birthday celebration as a pagan ritual. I guess that changed after they threw the Pope and birthday party.

We gather at the birthday celebration for food, drink and cake. We stack candles on the cake and the birthday person makes and wish and blows the candles out. We bring presents, cards and decorate with balloons. We chronicle the day with photographs and sentiments. The birthday person is the center of attention. We spend years perpetuating that special attention and then after I while we hope it gets overlooked. Remember what Daddy said, "if you don't get older, you die young:" so put on your Sunday best and smile for us. . .we love a good party.

Happy Birthday Alexis - WOW!

Twenty-three years ago, today, I was lucky enough to participate in the miracle of life. Not having had children myself, this memory becomes more and more precious to me. And as the years pass I still remember so many of the details of that day.

My dear friend Robin made a decision to become a single parent. I was supportive of her decision and in the process, she rewarded me with the designation of "labor coach." I was thrilled. I took my position very seriously, attended all of the birthing classes, made lots of notes in my workbook and readied myself for the day.

After a late-night, false alarm we decided that I should just stay at Robin's until the baby was born. So, I packed up some clothes and moved in for the countdown. I was working and was in my second year of graduate school. Robin gave me a "beeper" so I could be on alert. I carried a change purse of quarters. Yes, it was a time when cell phones were not so common place (and the ones that were available were the size of a shoe box).

It was a Friday and I was spending the day in classes. We knew the time was close. On my first break I tried to call the apartment. No answer. I went back into class and commented to my friend that Robin hadn't answered. Perhaps she was in the shower; perhaps she had gone for a walk. I tried again at the next break. No answer. I made my classmate beep me to make sure the beeper was working. At lunch time I called again. No answer. I called the doctor's office to see if they heard from her. Yes. Robin was on her way to the hospital with her mother. It's "SHOWTIME!"

I packed up my books and headed to the hospital. When I got there Robin had her good-natured smile on her face and laughed out "I guess I'm going have a baby." I held up my workbook and said "I'm ready to coach". And so it began.

As I consulted the pages of my "how to birth a baby" book, Robin went in and out of contractions. We sat up, we sat in the rocking chair, we watched a soap opera, we went to the bathroom, we ate enough ice chips to sink the Titanic. The TV programming turned to the six o'clock news. Doctor Hanft hadn't arrived yet. There was still time. The contractions started getting closer and more intense. I could see from the window that rush hour traffic was in full swing; how is the doctor going to get here in time? Robin started asking the question, "where the hell is he?" Back in the bathroom; back to the rocking chair; back to the bed.

"I want drugs NOW!" "Sorry, it's too late, you're going to have do without." "I need to go to the bathroom." "No, you're going to have the baby - Nurse, oh Nurse, I think we have lift-off!"

Sure enough, the time had arrived. The nurse threw some scrubs at me and said it's time to change. Now, not really thinking ahead, I had shown up to the hospital in a rather lovely aqua silk skirt and blouse; high heels and fully accessorized in a matching aqua and gold necklace and earrings. I put my scrubs on and the lovely little head covering. I looked at the the paper booties and realized that I was going to have to keep my heels on. Great, I'm going to help deliver the baby in high heels. I covered the heels with the paper booties. I forgot to take off my jewelry.

The nurse brought in a cart, re-positioned the bed and we began the last phase of "he he" and "ha ha" breathing techniques. "Try not to push." "You shut up." "Where is Dr. Hanft?"

At some point the door flew open and there was the dear doctor. He moved quickly into position as the accompanying nurse dressed him in scrubs. "Traffic" he mumbled. "You should have left earlier," I retorted. And so it began. Push, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Relax. Push, 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10, Relax.

Dr. Hanft looked at me and laughed, "What do we have here, Scrubs by Ralph Lauren?" My jewelry perfectly matched the scrubs. I was looking good for Alexis' arrival.

And, then the miracle began to unfold. I could see the head crowning. They moved a mirror into position for Robin to watch. "Oh my", I thought, "she's a big girl." As I watched her shoulders squeeze through I winced. Robin whimpered. Wow! Oh, wow. . .here she comes. . .Oh, wow. "Stop saying wow. ..is she alright?" She's perfect. .she's a big girl, but she's perfect.

Alexis was presented to her mother, Robin. The umbilical cord waited. Robin looked at me and said "go ahead". "Really? really? Wow." I carefully took the surgical scissors and "snip." And there was this beautiful baby girl. . .crying and squirming and stretching outward. A miracle. I watched as the nurse cleaned her up and was told I was to accompany her to the nursery. WOW.

Robin picked up the phone to call her parents in the waiting room. She made the call while Dr. Hanft was giving her an episiotomy. What a woman!

It was a Friday night and I wanted to call everyone and tell them how wonderful it was to be part of this thing called child birth. I believe everyone was out at "happy hour". WOW. ..I sat quietly, at my home, with a scotch in hand. WOW!

Happy Birthday Alexis. I still look a you and say "WOW!"