I used to LOVE and look forward to my birthdays when I was single, even married and child-less. But once the kids came along, THEIR birthdays is what I rejoiced in. Remembering what I went through on the day THEY were born. My own birthday suddenly seemed silly. I wanted to be celebrated for bringing THEM into the world! Enter my husband, and his "birthing day" gifts - he's awesome.
So, when I think of my own birthday, instead of thinking about gifts and cake and what I want to do, I think of my MOTHER. What she endured to bring me into the world. That she was going in to have a hysterectomy and discovered that she was pregnant - with me...call THAT a miracle.
But, I'm still a girl. I'm still human. And I wouldn't keep the joy of my birthday from my kids, now would I?This morning, I was presented a warm, beautifully soft robe from them. I LOVE IT. Tonight, I'll be treated to a dinner, lovingly prepared by my husband (I selected the menu) and we'll watch GLEE.
Tomorrow...well, I have meetings and appointments and aside from facebook wishes, it won't really FEEL like my birthday. But alas, I will be a year older. 32. (or alive for 33 years, as my son so logically points out, don't argue with him, you'll lose).
Happy birthing day, Mom - you did good, if I do say so myself. :)
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