Eighteen years ago today my obstetrician said I could get out of bed and stop taking Terbutaline.

Eighteen years ago today I got up, showered, dressed and drove to the obstetrician.

Eighteen years ago today the obstetrician said the baby could come at any time.

Eighteen years ago today I stopped at my favorite greeting card store to buy thank you cards.

Eighteen years ago today I felt the unmistakable onset of labor in the middle aisle of the above mentioned card store.

Eighteen years ago today I quickly paid for my purchases and drove home, occasionally wincing in pain.

Eighteen years ago today I called my friend, Frances, and casually mentioned I was in labor.

Eighteen years ago today I finally called my husband and told  him we were going to probably have a baby very soon.

Eighteen years ago today I packed a bag for the hospital.

Eighteen years ago today I made dinner, but didn’t eat much, if anything. My husband ate though.

Eighteen years ago today I called the neighbor who’d promised to take our daughter when I gave birth.

Eighteen years ago today we finally called the doctor, told her about the contractions. She said we should go to the hospital.

Eighteen years ago today I checked in to Alexandria Hospital.

Eighteen years ago today I wanted to watch Murphy Brown on TV instead of giving birth right then.

Eighteen years ago today the doctor showed up and grumpily delivered our son at 11:11 pm.

Happy Eighteenth Birthday, Andrew!