Lately, I've heard friends on facebook argue that birthdays are not just a celebration of the person who was born but also the mothers who gave birth to us. Today is my thirty-fourth birthday, and it has been the best birthday I've had in years, but I cannot not go back to this picture from my actual birth date (or thereabouts) in February 1982. My mom carried me till I was 19 days overdue, and she suffered through a cesarean section after I wrapped my umbilical cord around my neck, causing my heart rate to drop. I came out with a big welt on my arm from sucking on it, because my mom's body had stopped feeding me. But after all that trauma, look how happy my mom looks to have me in her arms.
Here's to you, mom. Thanks for 34 years of life and so much love.
Also, you're a fox.