Late Bloomers

Spring has fully sprung.  Pink and white blossoms have been replaced by little leaves.  Yellow is turning a deeper shade of green.  Tulips and daffodils are long gone, and even roses have unfurled their lovely petals.

It seems the only late bloomers around these parts live in my house.

According to my mom (and her doctor), I was born a month past my due date.  She blamed me for her recurrent back pain, after spending that month in a hospital bed (well, that and the fact I was born “sunny side up”–not an easy labor).  Her running joke about me was that I’d been “born a month late and hadn’t shown up on time for anything since.”

Not 100% true.  I like to think of myself as a punctual person.  In fact, I’m usually so nervous about being on time that I show up a few minutes early to most appointments.  Hubby’s the same way.  We were both early for our first date–we just happened to be waiting for each other in two different places–but that’s a story for another day.

In areas that are not so cut-and-dried as showing up for a haircut, I have been less than punctual.  Take high school, for example.  I didn’t get my license until a couple of months before my 18th birthday, almost two years later than I could have and much later than most of my classmates, who turned 16 well before my June birthday and were eager to get behind the wheel.  My first real kiss (and by “real” I mean that I was not in elementary school and there was no bottle-spinning involved) happened when I was 17.  I never had a boyfriend in high school, but I went to a dance with a boy I’d had a huge crush on since meeting him in junior high in another state, and when I did finally get that first kiss–woah, mama!–it was a doozy.

That’s how most things have happened for me.  I take my time, try to make sure I’m doing things the “right” way (whatever that means), and when I finally get there, it’s more than I could have hoped for.

I was 25 when I met Hubby.  By this time, I had already been the maid of honor in both my little sister’s and my best friend’s weddings.  I had had a couple of boyfriends in college, but no one special during grad school, and when I moved across the country–well, it still took me over a year before I met anyone worth while.  But that someone was THE ONE, and that is something special.

Turns out, Hubby was a late bloomer, too.  Of course, he had a medical condition as an excuse for not hitting puberty until his late teens, but still….He had only had one girlfriend before me.  He was so cute and nervous to be with me.  Me.

And now, we’re (almost) the last people we know who don’t have at least one kid.  All of my siblings, including my younger sister, are long done having children, and Hubby’s brother and sister-in-law finally got their two gorgeous boys after battling infertility themselves.

In my dad’s version of the story, minutes after I was born, I swung one strong leg right over the side of the hospital bassinet as they were wheeling me down to the nursery.  That’s my favorite part.

We’re the last ones to bloom.  But, if this follows the pattern of the rest of my life, sometimes the best really is saved for last.  Perhaps our blossoms will smell sweetest.  At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.


14 thoughts on “Late Bloomers

  1. My mother-in-law loves to tell me about my husband’s birth story…. he was born several weeks late, and when he was delivered, he was asleep. She claims that this is how he goes through life as well. 🙂

    There’s nothing wrong with being a “late bloomer”. From one to another, I really do think that we get to learn from the pitfalls of others before we take a dive, and because of that, we tend to be more successful.

    • That’s how I see it–even in my work–learning from the mistakes (and successes?) of others.

      Wow–imagine sleeping through your own birth! That’s wild.

  2. Hmm… now you’ve got me thinking…. I was born with my eyes open. Does that mean I’m a keen observer of the world? I’d like to think so.

    There’s a common saying in Armenian, that roughly translates to “May it be late; may it be sweet” (it rhymes in Armenian) and basically alludes to the notion that oftentimes, the more we wait for/desire something, the sweeter it is when we finally get it. It’s been 100% true in my life so far!

  3. I LOVE FIRST DATE STORIES! 🙂 Just so you know. I met Darcy when I was 25, and I was his first longterm girlfriend. He’d dated a lot of people, but not for long…

    Late blooming roses always smell the sweetest, I find…

  4. I love your idea about late bloomers. I tend to do things backwards and upside down (got married really young, then divorced young. Went through what most people go through when they’re teenagers when I was in my mid-20s), so maybe I should just accept that in my life too.

    I also vote for the first date story.

    • Man, I’m going to have to get to work on that first date post!

      We’ve done things totally backwards, too. I’m still not 100% comfortable with the fact that we’ve started fertility treatments before Hubby has a job! But there was no use waiting any longer. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with doing things outside the established “timeline.”

  5. I’m always struck while reading your posts or comments we make to each other how much we have in common! I was supposedly born a month late too! I’m not sure how accurate this is – was I really born a month late, or was her doc not-so-great with due date calculation? However, I am not punctual. It was a learned behavior from my mom, and it’s SO difficult to fix as an adult.

    • I questioned my original due date, too, but it’s not often you find someone who went that far past it! It’s weird how small the infertility world seems sometimes.

      I will admit I’m a slow mover in the morning, and it’s hard for me to show up on time for an early appointment. That’s why I don’t schedule any visits at work before 8:45!

      • Good plan! I’m terrible in the mornings – Grumptastic. Definitely was born a Night Owl. I was so happy this year b/c they changed our start time to an hour later (8:30), but alas – next year it’s back to (7:30).

  6. Pingback: Catch-up time « whenisitgonnabemyturn

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