29 years ago my second daughter was born in the old Haines clinic during a blizzard. Dr. Len Feldman delivered her with his boots on, and then the power went out so we were told we could go home. Our first visitors the next morning were Roger and Nancy Schnabel, who arrived on a giant road grader. The roads were still not cleared because there was so much snow that school was even closed for the first time in a decade. Dr. Stan Jones, who owned the then-private clinic, snowshoed over to check on us later in the day. It’s still snowing in February, but now Sarah has two daughters of her own, which means we are both mothers, and I think have a greater appreciation for one another because of that. My mother was here when Sarah was born, and seeing her concern when I went into labor, and her relief when we returned from the clinic safe and well, was a surprise. She never gave any indication how messy and scary and hard it is to have a baby. (Or that she hadn’t done it easily, with no fuss at all.) We didn’t really talk about that kind of thing at our house growing up, but later that snowy evening we did. It seemed natural to name Sarah after my mother. I’m sorry she died before Sarah was married. She would have admired the mother she has become, especially how well she balances work and family. I forget which day in April my mom died now, the 20th, or the 21st? But I remember her every year on February 13th, when we celebrate the passing of time with lots of cake and candles and love and gratitude.
