I have had a lot of really good days in my 31 years. My wedding day, the day each one of my children was born, the day we moved into our house, to name just a few. But one day stands out in my memory as the best–the day Moose was born.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying that his birthday was the best day of my life because he’s my favorite child–he’s not. I love all of my children equally. But the circumstances surrounding his birth, contrasted against those of his siblings, make it my most perfect delivery (if there is such a thing), and mark it as a very special, memorable day for me.

When Turkey was born, I had already been in the hospital on bedrest with pre-eclampsia for several days. I was scared, I was a first-time mother, and I was facing the frightening prospect of a c-section, which would also be my first ever surgery. Because he was technically a preemie (although only by a few days), Turkey was taken almost immediately to the NICU to be checked out (where they found he was just fine), so I didn’t get too much immediate bonding. Not ideal.

When Bunny was born, I was hoping to avoid another c-section. And so I labored for about 30 hours, before we made the hard decision to just go ahead with the repeat section before anything bad happened to either one of us. Upon her birth, they discovered Bunny had a low body temperature, and so they insisted on keeping her in a bassinet to warm for several hours. She was in the room with me the whole time, but I didn’t get to hold her for quite a while. Not ideal.

When Ladybug was born, I was facing the uncertainty of my fourth c-section, knowing for the first time the risks that were involved with multiple sections. I had also had some semi-alarming symptoms in the weeks leading up to her birth, and so I was terrified of what would happen when they cut into me. Of course, everything turned out OK, but I was scared for the last few weeks of the pregnancy and the entire delivery process. Not ideal.

Things were different when Moose was born. I knew what to expect from a c-section, and there was no doubt that that was how he was going to be delivered–and I was perfectly OK with it. I didn’t have any particular complications with the pregnancy, I didn’t really know the risks of multiple c-sections, I had just been breezing along through the pregnancy, so I had very few worries going into the surgery–there’s something to be said for being blissfully unaware. I got to hold him as soon as I was stitched up, and they let me keep him with me in recovery almost until the time I was sent up to my room. Great bonding time.

He was also born during my favorite time of year–Fall. It was late afternoon when I got into my room following his delivery, and the shadows were already starting to fall across the hospital, as the sun sunk low in the sky. When he was brought to me, it was so perfectly cozy in that room, just the two of us, in the quiet and the twilight. I remember thinking we were just like two birdies warm and snug in a nest, and wanting that feeling to never end. The Way You Look Tonight was playing on my iPod, and I remember thinking that the first lines of that song completely applied to that moment–that I would always be able to look back on that time, and remember how beautiful and perfect and special he was.

I think that God, in His infinite mercy, gave me that perfect day with Moose so I could remember it on the hard days with him: The day he was diagnosed; the day I had to send him to school for the first time; all the tough days when it’s so hard to see the progress he’s made for the struggles he has. When those hard times occur, I look back to his birth, and remember how happy I was that day, and I know that no matter what struggles we face, we will always still be those two birdies in the nest, content and peaceful to just be together, and I will always remember the way he looked that very first night.

Someday, when I’m awfully low

When the world is cold

I will feel a glow

Just thinking of you

And the way you looked tonight.