Sunday, March 17, 2013
St. Patrick's Day?
In our household we never made much of St. Patrick's Day. I was raised a Baptist, so no saints. I have a wee tad of Irish in my background, but the hunk is almost 100% German. And neither of us is really much for drinking, corned beef, or cabbage.
Then something happened to make this day special. At twenty-eight, with three young children, I believed I had a 'tumor'. In a generalized panic, I went off to the doctor. He closely questioned me about my birth control methods (none, as the hunk had a vasectomy years before), and he sent me for an ultrasound.
And that's how I found out on St. Patrick's Day 1978 that I was twenty weeks pregnant with my fourth child. Every year on March 17th I give special thanks for all my children. It seems appropriate, somehow. And far more realistic than green beer and drunken 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' tee-shirts.
So to my children. I love you. I'm so blessed.