This Sunday I will turn 24 years-old. My mom won't remember on her own, but I will call her and tell her the story she told me about my birth when I was a little girl. I will remind her how long it took my dad to get ready to take her to the hospital after her water broke. How I was delivered at 4:55 am at just over 8 lbs and 21 inches.
I can't help but thinking that I am now only nine years younger than she was when I was born. My parents were both older when they met and married (mom was 32 and dad 41). I keep thinking if I can just get a few years head start of when she and my dad did, then my kids will be older if I inherit this terrible disease. I could have nine extra years with my kids. That could be time to see all of them get graduate, marry, and have children.
I know what you are thinking, "Mare, do you just sit around and think of the saddest crap possible?" No, but I am sorry I can be a Debbie Downer. I don't know why this birthday has made me so emotional. I can barely talk about it without getting upset. My mom always made birthdays special and it reminds me how much I miss my old mom.
*One of my fave pics: my cousins Caroline and Susan on either side of me and a little friend in front of us. We were all at a dress up birthday party in LR.