16 years ago, our 3rd child was born a few hours shy of Labor Day. I had held him briefly, but we spent Labor Day getting to know our first born son, Patch, through the plastic of a NICU incubator.
12 years ago in 2002 I literally labored the birth of my 9 lb 15 oz baby, and Boo was born, on Labor Day.
Exactly 6 years ago in 2008, again on Labor Day, we were ushered into a tiny hot steamy room in the Thu Duc orphanage in Saigon, Vietnam. We were nervous, sweating profusely and tried not to be shocked when we were offered hot tea. And then Tess and Jude were carried through the door, and it was one of the most surreal moments of my life. It was a Labor Day unlike the others. In many ways Tess and Jude's labor was far more painful. Those of you who've been caught in the middle of an international adoption gone sour know what I mean. But it was still definitely a "labor" in every sense of the word.
3 years later on I-should-stop-being-surprised-that-all-these-life-changing-events-happen-on-the-same-day Labor Day, 2011, I sat there staring at Mimi's face on my computer monitor and wondered, but was pretty sure that she was ours. We would give our official yes the next day. Labor Day that year was full of thought and what if's and wonder.