The Birthday Party

It's that time of year again for me.  In a week my birth daughter will be having her fifth birthday.  I would say that the time has flown, but in reality, it hasn't.  I have spent the last 5 years moving forward, and forward progress isn't always the fastest type of progress.  I'm blessed to be able to celebrate with my birth daughter at her birthday party.  I know that some birth moms aren't granted that luxury, so I feel fortunate that I even have the opportunity.  That doesn't change the emotional struggle that usually comes following this event though.

I do well for the party.  I enjoy visiting with my daughter's parents and other family members, and I love watching my kids all together in one place.  We usually eat a nice lunch, open gifts, and then sing the compulsory "Happy Birthday," before eating cake and ice cream.

The happy birthday song makes me tear up, pretty much every year.  Yes, I know that it's a happy song, and yes, I know that we are celebrating.  There's just something about the chorus of happy birthday that reminds me of everything that I have missed.  For me, it isn't just a song.  It's a reminder of the last 365 days that I didn't bring my birth daughter to school, or brush her hair, or have a seat for her at my dinner table.


I struggle with grief around the time of her birthday, not because I regret my decision, but because I miss all of the moments that everyone else takes for granted.  I miss the time we haven't spent together, the movies we haven't watched together, and the hugs that I will never receive.
   
Around my daughter's birthday, I miss her more.  And the Happy Birthday song is there to prove it.