I thought about celebrating my half birthday....every year since the year Ruthie Lou died. As an adult, its not pertinent to celebrate your birthday, the years get lost and really a birthday celebration becomes about celebrating that you are still alive. But, when your daughter dies on your birthday, it's hard to celebrate anything, let alone that I am still living on the day of her death.
This year was going to be different. My son changed schools and because his birthday is mid summer, they celebrated his half birthday and I thought it fitting to do the same with mine. I was going to celebrate my life, my living, my being alive on March 10th this year but as the day rolled around, it didn't feel right. What adult celebrates their half birthday?? None, that I know of. It began to feel silly.
The weekend prior I celebrated life by honoring my sweet daughter with 7 other ladies who have also said goodbye to their babies and I realized, I celebrate living each day that I get out of bed. I am living this life and the "years counted" doesn't really matter. I wish that my birthday felt different, I wish I still had a day designated for me, but I wish even more that my baby was living so in the grand scheme of things a birthday dinner doesn't really matter.
So instead of candles on cake, we lit candles in a cathedral. Instead of making a wish, I sent my love to my sweet girl. Instead of a birthday dinner, I sat with two other mamas missing their babies and we laughed as we ate delicious food overlooking the ocean. And half birthday or 4 1/2 years later, I am still living and today I celebrated both my daughter and me, as I do every.single.day.
I can eat cupcakes any old day. Today marks 4 1/2 years since I held my sweet girl in my arms, not much else matters on this day.
I am a mama of three beautiful babes; two boys I have the honor of raising and my daughter who lived for 33 sacred days.