21

21 years ago today, at 3:30 or so in the afternoon, I was in a delivery room at Shady Grove Adventist Hospital, waiting to give birth to my first child. Well, “waiting” might not be the right word. Maybe “trying” would be better. 

He was a big baby (10 pounds, 3 ounces when he finally made his appearance) and he was in no hurry. He’s never been one to rush. He came out on his own time, about three hours later, with Dido’s “Thank You” playing on the piped-in music system. It really was the best day of my life. Nothing else had ever come close, nor has anything since, except for the equally great day three years later when my second son came. 

My son wanted a “low-key, chill” birthday, and so that’s what we gave him. We hung out at home for a bit after the morning swim meet, then went to the pool, where 21 and I swam laps. He dove in when I was halfway down the lane, and blew past me easily, then did a slow flip turn and came back, forcing me to pick up my pace so he didn’t lap me. I out-touched him just in time and he just kept going. I was the only person trying in that race. 

Later, we had dinner picked up from his favorite takeout, along with Oreo cake purchased earlier at the Laurel Amish market. We watched hockey and my husband and son clinked their beer bottles together, a first legal drink for the now 21-year-old. It was an altogether lovely day and the first day of what I hope and pray will be a long and happy adult life for my beloved first child.