We don’t remember our births, but the stories we’ve heard about our birth or adoption are our natural starting point. What have you been told about your birth or adoption? Who told you?By the time my sister and brother were born, I was seven-and-a-half and almost 12 years old, respectively, so I actually have a lot of pretty clear memories surrounding their entries into the world. I don't know a whole lot about my own, though. (now watch me write 10 paragraphs...)
My parents had miscarried not long before I was conceived. Based on how long the doctor told them they needed to wait, I probably shouldn't have happened when I did. Oh well.
I know my full name, date and time of birth, as well as the hospital, but I won't include them for safety reasons. I was 8 lbs., 13 oz., but I don't know how long I was.
My parents didn't know whether I'd be a boy or girl. I don't know what boy names they'd picked out, but for a girl, they had narrowed it down to Leah or Janelle, and pretty well settled on Leah. Until they saw me, that is. Then they decided that I looked more like a Janelle than a Leah.
My mom has an extensive collection of Jan Hagara artwork -- prints, dolls, figurines -- with which I've grown up. As long as I can remember, Mom has loved JH stuff. When I was 10 or 11 years old, I learned how and when my mom had started collecting her artwork. My mom had never heard of her, and she was looking for birth announcements for me, and she came across a package of notecards with JH art on them. She bought them, and fell in love with the artwork. (She can correct me if I'm wrong, but I think that's about how it went.)
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