11 years ago today, I gave birth to my third child, my daughter Bridget.

Now all Moms like to share their “birth stories” so I won’t bore you with the usual tales of pain, blood, yelling and eventual delight. But I will share with you what happened after my sister arrived in the middle of the night to watch my other two kids so my husband and I could get to the hospital, preferably before I delivered.

“Kath – your car’s not in the driveway.”

“Of course it is. Good thing I packed my hospital bag last week and it’s in there already.”

So as we race out on to the front porch of our house, my husband says “The car’s not in the driveway.”

I say “Well will you look at that.”

So he starts searching up and down the street for it (at this point maybe he’s thinking he’s the owner of Herbie the Love Bug which would be the only car that could relocate itself? Not sure of the thought process here.)

So, I tap him on the shoulder and say, “Here’s the thing.”

“STILL IN FREAKING LABOUR OVER HERE.”

We have another car, which we get into, and while he’s murmuring about contacting the police and what a pain this is I gently reminded him that he was probably going to have to wait a few hours to report it. Okay, it wasn’t gentle, but he got the message.

When we arrived at the hospital, the nurse immediately admonished me for not bringing my own slippers, robe, etc, which were of course at the point likely in a crate on their way to a new country, in the back of our formerly owned vehicle.

I said something like “Listen sister. I had a whole car wrapped around those slippers so back off.”

Which may have explained her lack of empathy during the actual birth. (Note to self: Don’t tell a labour and delivery nurse to “back off”)

As it turns out, I was delivering in a teaching hospital, so as the cast of thousands gathered to witness this great birth, a rather unique looking red-headed intern was selected to do the actual delivery. Everything went fine and fast forward to us happily sitting on the couch at home, watching tv in between the mayhem which a newborn brings into your life.

An ad for a national drugstore chain came on, set in a hospital, and as my husband and I both started leaning forward, watching in great interest, I said to him “Isn’t that the guy who delivered Bridget?” He said “That’s what I’m thinking.” I said “Huh. Interesting that they use real doctors as actors.”

I paused and then thought – but what if its the other way around? That the hospital was using actors as….

Well luckily I don’t like to over think things, and today Bridget is an amazing hockey player, aspiring writer, total Daddy’s girl, and truth-speaker. We went to pick out a birthday present at a sporting store and came across a tshirt which read “Born with skates on” to which she profoundly stated: “Well that would hurt.”

Happy 11th Bridget. I’m even going to forgive you for this morning, when I woke you up with “Happy Birthday Bridget” and you responded with “Where’s Daddy?”

Probably out looking for one of our cars, down the street.