(i might not've posted it, but she had it on her away message this morning, so i figure it's fair game.)
twenty-one years ago (or, well, about twenty-one years and 14 hours, at this point), my mother was pregnant. she was, mind you, eight months pregnant, even if we can all see where this is going from the first sentence. she wasn't feeling well that morning - kind of crampy or something (but, apparently, not badly enough to set off alarm bells) - and since it was Saturday, Dad was off of work, so they'd made an appointment to see the doctor that morning.
so yon middle sister and i are watching cartoons in the living room. Mom was in the master bedroom and Dad was in the other bathroom, showering. all of a sudden, we hear my mother below "David! Get in here!" and witness my father streaking through the living room in a towel.
my mother had gone to the bathroom (remember, she's not feeling well) and come out with a baby.
cue the 911 call and the lights and sirens. cue the 2349234 phone calls, because most of our friends had police scanners. cue one very new to the job police officer (he'd apparently been on the job something like three days) who came into the house, saw my mother, saw my new little sister, and passed out.)
anyhow, Faith spent a couple of days at the hospital, since she was just a bit on the premature side. (she stayed small for awhile, and was baptized in doll clothes.) however, she's been fine ever since. as might fit a child who said "i'm coming out right now, my youngest sister has been raising hell (in a good way) ever since. for example, she dyed her hair blue a couple years ago right before school pictures (alas, i only got to see it when it'd faded out to green.)
i love my littlest sister. happy birthday, sweetie. :)