Incoherently Yours

11:45p.m. August 25, 2015 Dear Rory,                 In twenty minutes, four years ago, you came into this world. About this time I would have been strapped down in an ambulance, breathing through contractions, and wondering if we were going to make it to the hospital.                 We didn’t.                 I remember the moment you were born, in a wave of panic and fear, I pushed you out even though I was trying so hard not to. I remember taking big gulps of air, sobbing, praying you were alive. The paramedics and accompanying doctor were to the side, I couldn’t see you. One of them glanced at me and said, “We aren’t ignoring you, we are just taking care of the baby right now, hold tight.”                 I remember asking if you were alive, and the startled, concerned look the paramedic gave me with a quick affirmative reply. From the look on his face, he felt bad he hadn’t announced that fact. You were here, alive. Soon your cries confirmed it. They marveled

                I remember lying on the ultrasound table, watching the screen. I saw words on that screen that made my heart skip a beat – or ten. Due date – August 26.                 August 26. My Heaven-dwelling daughter’s birthday. Rory’s birthday. I wasn’t happy at first. I was weirded out. Panicked, even. What did it mean? What were the odds? Why did it have to be the same day? Was I going to lose this baby, too?                 I was convinced the little one growing in my belly was a girl.  Right up until two days before I had my third baby, I was convinced. Sheldon and I were driving along to the city, when out of the blue I said, “Sheldon, it’s a boy. A boy. We have to come up with a boy name.”                 Sheldon thought I was crazy. But we did; we came up with two boy names we liked.                 I had done something rather silly a few weeks before. I had made it past 30 weeks gestation… and then 34… surpassing my previous pregnancies. Sheldon and I were look