On this day in history…

True Story.  About five decades ago, maybe a little more…. ON a Wednesday…. a baby girl was born in a hospital in a Midwestern city.  It was much like any other hospital in the Midwest, except for one thing.  The Queen of Denmark had been visiting the city, and she was pretty pregnant.  As it turns out, she went into labor prematurely, was rushed to the VERY SAME hospital, and gave birth to a little girl, on the VERY SAME DAY.  Both of these events transpired within an hour or so of one another.

Now, the first girl to be born was me.  Early in the day.  The second child was the Queen’s.  I weighed 9 pounds 10 ounces, and was a pretty dang healthy baby. Chubby.  Like a Walrus. But the Queen’s little girl was premature.  Spindly. Sickly. Not in very good shape.   The Queen was dismayed, and felt she could not return to the Homeland with such a poor specimen of a Danish child.

So… that fine Queen… Margrethe II… summoned her three of her best bodyguards.  They were to go to the hospital nursery, and switch babies.  They were to find the girl who looked most like her little Baby Ingrid, but much healthier.

And I entered the scene.  Yes, I was switched at birth, and taken back to the Royal Palace in Denmark.  As it turns out, they kept me for about 2 months.  I was Little Princess Ingrid. Yet…. they decided early on… there was something very odd about me.  It could have been the over queued reserve of energy, even as a newborn.  Or the constant chatter.  Or the fact that it appeared that I was seeing things, and pointing randomly at this and that… as if something were really there.  I would gesture my hands, and laugh.

So. In late June of that same year, the team of bodyguards flew back to the U.S., problem-child in tow, and in the middle of the night, put me back with my birth family.  And they took Princess Ingrid back to Denmark… pleasantly plump at this point. Like a Dutch Princess.

This would explain my affinity for Dyrlægens natmad…. which is dark rye bread, a layer of liver pâté (leverpostej), topped with a slice of saltkød (salted beef) and a slice of sky (meat jelly).  Gawd, I can’t get enough of the things.

And here we are.

Today as I sat with my birth mother, I reflected on my childhood, and all she must have sacrificed to be my Mom.  All the love and car she gave to me. All the band-aids and “There, there’s.”

She had no idea today was my birthday.  Midway through the visit, my brother called, and they sang Happy Birthday, in tandem, to me.  She was so excited and wanted to have a party.  Then, about 2 minutes later… she had no recollection that this had just transpired, or that it was even Spring.  She hoped it wouldn’t snow today.

As I changed her diaper for the second time, she said “Look who’s the baby now.”  But 5 minutes later, she commented that she’d like to go out and buy a new car this afternoon.  By the time we got back to her chair, she asked for her third snack of the morning.

I am glad for all of this. It is a tremendous birthday gift, to be with her, and have our moments of laughter.  And we do.

Had things gone the other way… I’d be in some incredibly huge castle in Denmark right now… looking out over the Rhine River, counting the sapphires in my crown…. ….snacking on liver pate’ with little birthday candles in it.  With my dog named Dorit.  In a golden gown made of silk and diamonds.

Okay… truth be told… in ALL sounded pretty good until I had to put on a dress.  All bets are off there……  Queen Mum of mine.

You see…. I am exactly where I am supposed to be… and I love being right here.  Concisely  where my life has led me.  On this birthday of mine.  I am thankful for it all.  I am thankful for you.  On this Wednesday.  Some five decades later.

We are born wet, naked, and hungry. Then things get worse. ~Author Unknown

Here is the world. Beautiful and terrible things will happen. Don’t be afraid. ~Frederick Buechner