Easter Sunday

Nine years ago, today was Easter Sunday.  

Amazing, huh?  How do I remember?  Am I one of those calendar date savants?  Nope, I'm just a mom:  I remember because I was in labor and on the way to the hospital in the wee hours of that morning.

Predictably, we got pulled over for speeding.  In sight of the hospital.

The policeman swaggered up to the car, "Excuse me sir, is there a reason you were going 55 mph in a 35 zone?"

"Well, actually, officer, my wife is in labor."

Somehow it sounded too much like a movie for the guy to believe my husband. "You're not serious?!"

"Damn straight!" I growled from the passenger seat.

He took one look at my bared teeth, shouted "Follow me!" and leapt into his patrol car, lights flashing, and escorted us to the hospital, about 400 yards away.

Our firstborn was born an hour later.

Once the world had stopped shifting around me and the profound truth of my new life had settled in a bit, my first coherent thought, after glancing at the clock and seeing it was 'only' 3:30 a.m., was:  "Oh, good!  We can still make it to church!"

Then I promptly fell asleep.

Somehow, I didn't feel like I'd missed Easter that year.