Another busy signal. This year when I called my brother to wish him a happy birthday his phone line was busy for more than an hour.

Later that evening when I finally got through, I asked, "Was Mom calling to tell you how on the morning you were born, 38 years ago today, that she held a very bald you in one hand and the newspaper with Churchill on the front page in her other hand?”

Michael is incredulous. "How did you know?"

“And was Dad on the other phone, saying, ‘I saw you and that picture of Churchill and thought, "If only I had a cigar”’?"

"Were you with them?"

I can feel that we are slipping back into our old familiar roles. I am the big sister; he's the little brother. We live in different parts of the country now. Michael lives in Kentucky and I live in Massachusetts, and even though we each have families of our own, sometimes it's still just us.

"I know because two weeks ago on my birthday Mom and Dad told me my birthday story about Bob Hope and Indian babies."

Michael laughs. "Oh, now I don't feel so special anymore."

But we both feel very special. Because every year on our birthday, our parents still tell us, their middle-aged children, our "When You Were Born” stories.

When You Were Born
This year my birthday call was in the morning.

"We were watching the Bob Hope Special when Mother's water broke." Dad always pauses here for Mom to add from the other phone, "They wrapped you in an orange blanket – with your jet black hair, you were so exotic looking, I thought you were an Indian baby."

Our birth stories never change. Michael's story is always about Winston Churchill and a cigar. And, although as a college student, I used to point out that "Indians are born in India," I don't bother anymore – Mom will always refer to Native Americans as "Indians."

Now, just as my parents do, I tell each of my four kids their birthday story on their birthday. Over the years, "Tell me my birthday story!" has become my kids’ most popular birthday request. My kids love to hear how we became a family.

A Story for Everyone
My oldest son likes to hear how I ate empanadas with chipotle peppers the night I went into labor. In his 14-year-old mind, he thinks my pregnancy cravings explain his love of Mexican food.

When I tell my second son's birth story I always start by describing the red and yellow tulips in our late April garden that year. And since I first went into labor with my youngest son at the Thanksgiving dinner table, his birth story is recounted each year by our entire extended family – by the time the pumpkin pie is served.

The boys help tell their little sister's birth story; they were all old enough to remember when she was born. "Do you guys remember when we filled the hospital room with pink balloons for Mom and Leda?"

Keeping Family History Alive
When I was a kid the pleasure was in hearing my birth story. As I grew up, the story of my "exoticness" helped explain a lot during those awkward teenage years. And Winston Churchill attained near-hero status for Michael, because, after all, they were once "look-a-likes.” Growing up, my brother and I knew very clearly from "whence we came" because our birth stories were part of our family history.

Now I know, as a parent you sometimes have to help family history along. I hope someday my kids take their oldest brother out for a birthday dinner at a Mexican restaurant, send a birthday bouquet of red and yellow tulips to their brother born in April, call "Turkey Baby" on Thanksgiving and remember the wonder of a room full of pink balloons and a new baby sister.

And every year on my birthday morning I know that my parents will call me, using two phones and one phone line, and tell me my birth story. On my birthday my parents remember themselves as a young couple with a dark-haired baby in an orange blanket. My birth story is one of the ways my parents tell me they love me. And for that reason, just as my own kids do, I still love to hear it.

Want to see more?

• The Lost Art of Letter Writing: How to Get Your Grandchild to Pick Up a Pen
• Simply Grand: The Importance of Grandparents
• Long Distance Grandparents: Creative and Fun Ways to Stay in Touch
• Talk about it!