My Secret Celebration On My Daughter’s Birthday

Ever since I became a mom 7 years ago, when my daughter’s birthday rolls around every May, I celebrate. It’s a given that I celebrate her, with her, for her. But I also secretly celebrate me and the trials and tribulations of motherhood. Every mom’s journey is so beautiful and unique in their own right and I just can’t help but feel that a child’s birthday is really about the mom. I mean, childbirth is no joke and motherhood is even more difficult so why not take some time to mentally celebrate these triumphs?

On the eve of her birthday every year, around 7pm, I reminisce about where I was in the birthing process.  I had to be induced due to medical issues so I take myself through the process. The anxiety of being admitted to the hospital, the pitocin, the failed epidural, watching HGTV to try to pass the {painful} time, watching her dad sleep and remember wanting to stab him. I think about the demeanor of the room, the preparation, the nurses, the doctor arriving, the look on my mom’s face when my daughter arrived. My first words of, “what do I do with you now, little one?”, as she wailed in my arms. Just…everything.

Every year, as the hours of her birthday pass, I just remember. I remember when she was a baby, depending on me for everything. I remember how hard it was for me in those early months and the frustration I felt. I remember the laughter of the toddler phase and all the blunders I’ve made as a mom. I secretly pat myself on the back for making it through another year with a child that I am beyond proud of. I’ve kept her alive, happy, and healthy so I must be doing something right.

This morning, on her 7th birthday, I woke up at 4:43am, two minutes before I actually had her in 2009. I was so thankful that I woke up at this ugly hour of the morning to really reflect all by myself. To celebrate motherhood for a few quiet minutes, all by myself.  I laid there thinking about the past seven years and what they’ve looked like, how they’ve evolved, how I’ve grown as a mom. I thought of everything she’s been through in her young life and I wonder if I’ve always done the right thing for her in tough situations.

I know that moms have their own holiday of Mother’s Day, but that’s not the day I choose to celebrate my accomplishments as a mom. I choose to celebrate my own mom on that day for all she’s done for me. Now that I’m a mom, I feel like my mom should actually be crowned queen but I digress.

It should go without saying that I do stay in the moment and never lose sight that it’s her day and that she’s to be celebrated but I love my own, separate celebration is happening in my mind, too. As moms, we’re always told to take a backseat, to give up everything for our kids, to never be first in our own lives…and we do all of these things and we do it graciously for these amazing creatures that we birthed. That’s what being a mom is all about but I simultaneously choose to acknowledge myself and what it takes to be that person to sacrifice everything. I celebrate it. On her day. In my own mind. Call me selfish. I’m ok with that.

Happy mom anniversary to me. I’m rocking this shit so far.