Birthday grief
Today is my 46th birthday. I’m only three years younger than my mom was when she died. My children are 12 and 7 and the thought of leaving them now, or even 10 years from now, is terrifying. I used to love my birthday - it was the only day of the year when my family really showed up for me. My mom loved birthdays, they were a Big Deal in our house. She would go all out every year for mine, making a huge deal out of celebrating just me. I never felt more special than I did on my birthday.
I’ve had 28 birthdays without her. That feels like such a huge number. It’s hard to express how much grief I feel each year on my birthday without her, how much I have missed her love and attention as the woman that brought me into this world. Each year, my birthday has been kind of a disaster. It’s full of longing for me, tinged with sadness. I spent many years trying to cover up my sadness only to have it come out in some other way later in the day or the next. My 30th birthday was a complete disaster and that wasn’t even about my mom; my 40th, wasn’t great either. I’m determined that on my 50th, I won’t be in the country - I’m planning to take my family on an incredible trip somewhere fantastic, to mark a huge milestone birthday. To have lived longer than my mom, that was always what I feared wouldn’t happen for me.
I know that today will be hard in some ways, despite all of the birthdays I’ve spent without my mom. I have a loving family and wonderful friends. I have a life that it beautiful, despite the fact that it’s tough to find the energy for it somedays. I’m luckier than many, I know this. But on days like today, I know I’m also a daughter who misses her mom and would do anything to hear her voice wish me a happy birthday, just one more time.