The eighth of March in the year one thousand nine hundred and seventy four was a Friday. A brief examination of the day’s history did not offer exceptionally interesting bits of information, except that perhaps it was the day the Charles de Gaulle Airport opened in Paris. But while looking at what happened either just before or just after the eighth of March, in the year 1974, things got more interesting.
In June 1974, the tenth staging of the World Cup took place in Germany. The soccer tournament marked the first time that today’s trophy, the FIFA World Cup Trophy, created by the Italian sculptor Silvio Gazzaniga, was awarded. Cool, and shout-out to my European football fan husband for making me pay attention to this stuff.
Later in the year, American President Richard Nixon resigned due to the Watergate scandal that broke in early August. This isn’t news to most people, but it is the most significant political event of the year of my birth.
Oh, didn’t I mention that?
Today is my birthday. To conmemorate the occasion (and before I go to work), I decided to do a little light research. I’m not worried about aging (much), and to confirm that I identifed other women with whom I share a birthday, give or take six weeks. They include Victoria Beckham, Penelope Cruz, Eva Mendes and Faust.
While one could compare one’s own success to that of said women of same age, that would be an unfortunate idea. Instead, I am inspired. These women are confident. Motivated. Successful. Hot. And they’re all, like me, rapidly approaching 40 years old. I am psyched to be in the same company (from a distance). Seriously. I may not have the make-up artists/personal trainers/agents/bank accounts that they do, but I have one life to live, and it is mine. And I am so grateful. So grateful, in fact, that in my quicky research I realized that I didn’t need to figure out who shared a birthday with me to find inspiration.
It occured to me this morning to go to the source.
This woman, after all, is the person who conceived and co-created me. When I realized that what I was looking for was practically right before my eyes, I asked her to tell the story of the eighth of March, so many years ago. Here is what she said:
March 7, 1974
We were living in Philadelphia, Pa. Tomorrow would be my last day of work! Our baby (we didn’t know the gender in those days) was due about March 20th so I was happy I’d have a couple of weeks to prepare for the upcoming event!
March 8, 1974
I woke up and got ready for a doctor appointment and work. I believe the appointment was at 10 a.m. On the way there I felt kind of crampy but okay. We parked the car and went to the office, and I’m feeling slight pain. To make a long story short, the doctor examined me and said, “You need to get to the hospital ASAP.”
We started walking down the street to the parking lot, and all of a sudden I had terrible pain and had to sit on the curb. Your dad immediately hailed a taxicab and off we went to the Hospital Center which fortunately was not far away. I was in pain, the cab driver knew I was about to deliver and he kept saying, “Hold on, we’ll get you there”.
As we were pulling into the emergency room, I threw up in the car. I kept apologizing but the driver was a sweetheart. He said, “Just go in…..not to worry.” Dave gave him a huge tip (which he deserved!) and off we went. I was immediately put in a wheel chair and went to delivery. My little one was breech, and Sarah Kathryn Padilla was born at 3:38 p.m. , a vaginal birth (in this day and age, they would have done a C-section without thinking twice!) They thought that she may have broken her collar bone, so they took her right away to check it out. She was fine, healthy, weight was about 6lb. 13 ounces. Absolutely beautiful, and very healthy, and very hungry.
I cried when I saw her. Dave was thrilled and I can hardly believe that our little daughter is 38 years old. It seems like yesterday that I almost had my first child on the streets of Philly, the City of Brotherly Love.
Thank you for giving birth to me, Mom.
I love you so much.