Mom was home from Germany.
I was lying in bed, minding my own business.
It was 1:15 AM.
I turned over...
"Mark!"
"huh?"
"We've gotta go!"
I don't remember whether it was snowy outside in Grass Valley that night. Might have been.
But we hopped in the car, complete with bag, and making sure Mom had Marshall and Adam in her routine for the morning.
At 3:16 AM, no thanks to the ER doctor, Miss Ingrid Christine Elfstrand was born.
I cried.
I had such a good relationship with my mom that I wanted that same thing with a daughter. And here she was.
Ten pounds, 2 ounces, and my doctor got there just in time to catch her.
I'm happy to say that God has been gracious over the last 27 years. Some big downs, but the ups have been better.
And now she's a mommy to girls and understands that special bond.
There is that old adage: A son is a son 'til he gets him a wife...a daughter's a daughter the rest of her life.
Happy Birthday, Daughter of Me. And your name means... Daughter of the King - of Christ.
