As a woman who has given birth twice in the last three years, birthdays are something I view now with a sense of renewed significance. This total miracle that that day is, the day when raw life is celebrated in all of its beauty and terror, should never be lost on us as we look toward those we love on their “happy days”.
Today is Doug’s birthday, a day when not one but TWO little Haub boys staked their claim on the planet, and I marvel at how that little miracle in some hospital room changed the course of my life. It is too little to say that I am grateful for the man who is my companion, lover and friend. It is too small a thing to say that I appreciate him. What I can say is that he is the only one I want by my side in this journey; the only partner I can imagine ever desiring.
When I called Doug at lunchtime to sing Happy Birthday to him with Mercy, he was wistful in remembering how three years ago I was showing up at his office to surprise him with a birthday getaway to Carpinteria for a romantic, beach front weekend. Picnics at dusk, seal-watching, and lots of surfing made for a perfect escape, and it was lying in the bed of our bed-n-breakfast watching a movie one night that Doug first felt our little Mercy kick. Times have changed a bit around here, and the extent of romance in the house this morning was a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios in bed (which he mostly shared with his two hungry kiddos who thought it was very silly for Daddy to be eating his cereal in the bed). And I guess what I love is how much I love him in both of these very different seasons.
Happy Birthday, Doug. Voooooooooommmmmaaaaaaarrrrrrooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!