I very, very rarely base story events on things that I draw from my own life, but this is an instance where I pulled one thing from reality: what happened with Patricia’s birth is very similar to what happened with my mother when my youngest brother was born.

He was born on the early side of full-term, and he was born breech (and yes, born breech by regular delivery, and not by C-section). We can talk about a million reasons why things came out that way—let me just say that the doctor really should not have been surprised to discover that he was coming breech at the last possible instant—but I am very glad that things turned out okay. I was four when he was born, but old enough to understand how lucky it was that everyone was healthy.

My memory of my little brother’s birth is that he was born on my birthday. (In reality, he came a few days later, but my father had been traveling on my birthday, and so my family had moved my birthday celebration back, and in the way of four year olds, I didn’t really understand that it wasn’t my birthday.) I said at the time that my little brother was the best birthday present. Now, many, many years later, I look back on all the things I’ve ever received. Yep. Still the best present.