It has suddenly come to my attention that Em did not get a birthday letter due to a certain hurricane ripping through our little patch of the world. This is not the first birthday she has lost. Katrina came to play only days before her 3rd birthday. This got me thinking of a lovely little incident that occurred while bringing her into this big bad world.

As I had only presented myself ready to deliver her brother 15 months earlier, I was well know around a certain maternity ward when I showed up ready to evict her. There was also a certain serial killer running around killing women around here at that time. It seems the powers that be decided to have a press conference releasing vital, recently gleamed information on said serial killer that same day. Being the great person I am, I volunteered my room for all the labor and delivery nurses to watch the conference. So at noon, everyone gathered in my room while I leaned over the bed and panted for dear life, and Jeff rubbed my back. At this press conference we learned we were to be on the look out for a white male in a white pick up truck. They all thanked me profusely and made really sad faces as they left the room at 12:45 pm. Emie was born at 3:09 pm. 6 months later we would learn that the killer was an African American who did not even own a white truck.

All this is to tell you to lock your doors and stay inside around September 3rd, and I owe Em a birthday letter.