you are my sunshine

She was born in May of 1977, on a sunny Tuesday morning. I wasn't ready to be a mother, not by any stretch of the imagination. I was positive it was false labor, up until I got to my doctor's office for my exam and he told my confused husband to get me to the hospital because I was going to have a baby. Even then, I think I fought her arrival, at least partly because I was convinced the little alien being that had been tumbling around inside of me, sapping my energy and disturbing my sleep, was going to be a boy. All I could think of was, here's another male who's going to be controlling my life. I didn't have a clue. We were so sure this baby was going to be a boy we didn't even bother to pick out a girl's name. All signs pointed to the arrival, in a few weeks, of a large boy that was to be named Maxfield.

Instead, we were surprised -- and I was fascinated -- at the early appearance of a girl. What was her name? the doctor asked. I wasn't prepared for this. Maxine was out of the question. The only name that came to mind (I didn't even consider that I could have waited a while to name her) was Marina, and it turned out to be perfect for her. In distress due to my blood pressure and borderline pre-eclampsia, she had expelled some of her meconium (the contents of her intestines before food entered them) into the amniotic fluid, causing her hair to be tinged with green. Years later, my sister told me she had read something that said babies born with green hair were mermaids, and that description fit Marina perfectly.