This past Thursday was Finn's first birthday. We didn't have a party for him because we don't think he knows his birthday from any other day of the year at this stage, but I did tell him the story of his birth like my mom still does for me each year. I told him about the Dr.'s appointment the day before when we found out that he was coming the next day whether he was ready or not. I told him about getting up early and the middle Eastern couple in the waiting room with the two girls. I told him about the room we had and how tough his mom was. He laughed when I told him how I had to leave when she got her shots and smiled big when ever I told him about TomTom and grandma Kris. I told him about the horrible Dr. we had and the great nurses. I told him about watching him being born how I held mommy's hand and changed the wash cloth on her forehead between each contraction. I told him how I cried when he was born and how nervous we were when he wasn't breathing right. Some Dr.'s wanted to take him but another told them not to, he told them to give the baby to his mommy and he would be OK, and I told him that he was OK once he was in mommy's arms. I wonder how the story will change over the years and what will be important in 10 years and what will be forgotten. I will tell him the story for as long as he wants to hear it, and probably for a couple years after that.