Oliver was born four years ago today, in fact, it was a Super Bowl Sunday here in the US, even though it was already Monday morning (4 am on the 4th of February) in Riga, where he was born. I had been waiting for snow (as it was part of my birth plan… ha) and with the first wet, meager snow (and the only one that I can recall that February), he was born. He flew into this word, so eager was he to be born, after I had mistakenly walked around in ‘false labor” for 26 hours, his midwife had arrived just barely forty minutes before that. His Daddy had just woken minutes before that and was totally shaken and mesmerized by what he had just witnessed. There is no snow here, just pink cherry blossoms on the streets of San Francisco. I guess that is to be the weather around his birthday from now on (considering that we are planning on staying here for a while). There is part of me that wishes for snow still. And for going sleighing during his birthday party like we did last year. But I am content with staying up until 2 am to bake the cake, just like I did last year and possibly the year before.  Happy Birthday, Oliver and happy Birthday to me too! Will I ever stop thinking of his wonderful birth on this day?