Happy birthday to you, Zhù nǐ shēngrì kuàilè (Sounds like zoony sun-zuh kwy lah)
Emerson’s delivery — a year ago, Aug. 29 — was an exciting one. Her head was turned the wrong way and so she wasn’t falling into position, and when I finally pushed her out, after 36 hours of labor, the room was packed with doctors and nurses and medical residents (who rushed in to see a forceps delivery, which the doctor had threatened).
A moment after Em finally slipped out — in a big wriggle of arms and legs, or so it seemed when the doctor shouted, “Stop!” and I stopped pushing and opened my eyes — one of the nurses announced: “I think this one is going to be a drama queen!”
I recalled that woman’s regrettable words as, days after an earthquake, Hurricane Irene made tracks for Emerson’s Sunday birthday party and the big ordered cake — vanilla buttercream frosting, strawberry jam and lemon curd filling — was cancelled and the party called off.
In the end, feeling nervous about Irene knocking the power out — and leaving us in the dark with a baby for too many days — we drove to Rich’s parents’ place in Boston and on the 29th celebrated with a tiny cake and just the grandparents. Emerson clapped along with our singing, occasionally hid her face in faux modesty, and loved the strawberries even more than her first bites of cake. In all: a success.
Maybe more than a drama queen, we can hope that while drama may find her, she’ll move through it with smiles and ease.
Sun-zuh kwy lah, xiao bao bei.
