September 18, 2013: On the Day You Were Born


When Ben was born, I bought a book "On the Day You Were Born". As friends and relatives visited Baby Grant for the first time, I asked that they write in the book; explaining what they were doing on Ben's birthday. This is now a cherished book. There are notes from Ben's now adult cousins writing in their small child handwriting what they had for school lunch and how excited they were when they heard about the arrival of their baby cousin. The handwritten loving thoughts from my now deceased grandparents are cherished as well.

Although I don't have a book like this, I am fortunate to have a mother who is a great historian and often shares these wonderful details. Below are her notes on my birth. My keepsake will be held in this blog.

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Note 1:

Sandy was 46 years old last Friday, the 13th.  After getting home from the hospital on the 16th I laid Sandy on the sofa & called Matt & Mark to come in the house from the backyard.  Babysitters Gma & Gpa Gib were going on and on about our new pink bundle of joy while both boys walked very carefully to investigate what warranted so much attention.  They got real close to her face for a really good look.  Who to blame?  I don't remember but someone flipped the top of the blanket over Sandy's face.  No longer interested & impatient to play again, they left the room to go back outside.  I wish I could describe Gma Gib's reaction and Gpa Gib's laugh.  Gma Gib was a little less complementary a few minutes later saying "She looks like a little papoose!"  Granted, Sandy's skin was somewhat ruddy that day and it didn't help I had her wrapped as tight as a drum in her blanket.  Gma Gib never beat around the bush.

love,

gramma mary

Note 2:

Doesn't seem possible 46 years have gone by...On Sat the 16th we took you home from the hospital...same day Rosie & Gary Grage were married.  (Heidesch's lived in Matgen's house then)..typical September morning in Iowa....sunny & moderate temps.  Always a good baby, you did projectile vomiting only when you drank your bottle too fast.  My fault. And you were kind of like Grant, always smiling with a just little bit of rascal in you.

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