Twenty-seven years ago today was one of the best days of my life. It was my due date for my first pregnancy and I had just celebrated my 27th birthday exactly one week earlier.
August 5, 1985 -- 8/5/85 -- a perfect day to have a baby. A perfect day to give birth to my first daughter, my precious E.
Today E is 27, the same age I was when I gave birth to her. The significance of her age isn't lost on me. I have often wondered if she would have a child by her 27th birthday. I didn't think she would, but the possibility existed.
In 1958 when I was born, my mother was 19; I know she wouldn't have wanted me to follow in her footsteps in that regard. She left college to get married and was never able to return to finish her degree.
Even though E and I both married soon after college graduation, our similarities have diverged from that point. E enrolled in graduate school and earned her MS; I started working for the company who would be my employer for twenty years. Three months before my 5th wedding anniversary, I gave birth to E. Three weeks ago E and N celebrated their 5th anniversary. Maybe E and N will eventually have a child(ren), but maybe they won't -- only God knows.
What I do know is that the "numbers" that E and I share are very interesting:
My birth year -- 1958
E's birth year -- 1985
When I was 30, E was 3.
When I was 41, E was 14.
When I was 52, E was 25.
At 54, E is half my age, 27 -- the age I was when I gave birth to her.
God willing, if I live to be 63, E will be 36.
God willing, if I live to be 74, E will be 47.
God willing, if I live to be 85, E will be 58.
God willing, if I live to be 96, E will be 69.
I'm not a math whiz -- I married G because he has an MA in math -- but there must be some sort of algorithm that explains this reflexive phenomenon. Without understanding the "why" behind it, I think it is just one more thing, a cool coincidence, that connects me to the daughter that I love so dearly.
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