I grew up with stories of my brother and sister having to open their presence at the hospital.

This is Barbara in Vancouver. She's telling me about a dramatic story from her family's history.

And don't worry, at the mention of hearing children opening gifts in the hospital,

it's only natural to assume that we're talking about them as if they're patients.

But no, they were there for a family gathering of sorts,

one that, technically speaking, Barbara wasn't able to attend the first part of.

But when she did arrive, she provided the final and, dare we say, ultimate gift of the occasion. I guess I never really thought of myself as being a gift.

You see, Barbara was born on Christmas Day. Now, every family has that one Christmas that's

fit for the record books. You might think that a child being born on Christmas Day would be a once-in-a-lifetime

thing. But in Barbara's family, it's actually

a tradition of sorts. One of the wonderful things that kind of happened in our family was that

my father was also born on Christmas. In fact, births right around the heart of the Christmas

season are downright commonplace for her. My daughter was born on December 23rd, and I remember thinking when I went

into labor that I was going to have to be prepared for the long haul, because I figured she would

also be born on Christmas Day. But now we've also expanded to little Arthur. Her, was born on Christmas Eve.

Yes, for most of us, Christmas is the jolliest time of year, but in Barbara's family,

apparently, it's nine months before Christmas, if you see what I mean.

Well, I've often wondered what it's like to grow up with a birthday of December 25th.

Does the birthday celebration feel more special because Christmas is in the backdrop?

Or does Christmas overshadow it?

Or conversely, is Christmas itself enhanced or diminished by the birthday?

It was always a bit of a challenge to carve out a special day.

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