The baby born on my 29th birthday
is having a baby today,

and, though I am not there, as I was
when my niece made her debut

I do not mind. That day, almost
36 years ago, taught me how

difficult it is to watch someone you
love labor, in great pain, doing one

of the most important things she will
ever do. I still see my sister’s contorted

face, the baby pushing her way out,
as that baby’s baby is doing right now,

as people who already love that baby
eagerly await his appearance, and

there will be tears, not least on the part
of the grownups (from this grownup, too)

because as some of us have the honor
to midwife some of us out of this world,

there is so much joy for some of us
watching a brand new being enter it,

this one they already call Henry—
lucky boy, lucky us.