Today I turn 35 years old. I am officially AMA. Advanced Maternal Age. And I'm pregnant. Hmmm...
Last year my birthday came 35 days after Eva died. I told my husband I wanted nothing to do on my birthday. I wanted no Happy Birthday. No cake. No present. No recognition whatsoever and nobody better utter the word Happy Birthday to me because there was no way my birthday could ever be happy again.
This year my mom bought us tickets to Stuart McLean and the vinyl cafe (the show isn't actually till the end of October, so that's nice). I still feel strange about Happy Birthday. This is not a happy time of year. These are the 2 months that Eva did not share with us. And the terrible grief of last year leaves an indelible mark on everything.
But I let Mike take me out for supper last night. To the Taj. The same restaurant we ate at for my birthday 2 years ago. I was hugely pregnant with Eva. In a way these two months are the two months we lived without Eva. But they are also the two months that I was very pregnant and anticipating her arrival. The little girl I had always hoped for.
Today we had birthday apple pie for breakfast. We put one candle in for each one of my children and, at Samuel's insistence, one for me too. My children are my richest gifts and blessings. Each child, and I, blew one out. Two were left burning. One for Eva and one for Hope. Samuel blew out Eva's and Vincent blew out Hope's. Samuel laid claim to Eva's candle for years to come. He sure loves his little sister.
I don't know how my birthday will change in the years to come. But I have a feeling it will always be kind of sad. It just falls smack dab in between Eva's death and her birthday. I'm glad the day is finally here because now it's almost over for another year again.