Birthdays are a big deal for me. I've always thought someone's birthday should be an exceptional day for them. It should be a day when wishes come true...it shouldn't be an ordinary day. After all, how could I not celebrate with joy and gusto, the day I first looked at my child's face and held them in my arms for the first time. If anyone's birthday should matter to me - it's theirs.
It is an odd and somewhat bipolar trip I embark on when their birthdays come around. Our son will be 10. Many times this week I have reflected on his life so far. I do this every year, of course, but the 10th birthday is a milestone. I remember vividly turning 10. I remember that birthday.
He will remember this one.
And so the ache has begun once again. For 9 years I have shed tears the night before his birthday as I've said "Goodnight 3 year old....tomorrow you'll be 4....I love you 6 year old tomorrow you'll be 7...". One year as I left his room teary I explained to my husband, "I don't know how to describe it other than my heart just hurts when they have a birthday because it's a reminder of how fast it's going and we can never get back the time that is gone." Every parent's curse.
There is no remedy for the ache. I've learned to hug through it...smooch through it...snuggle through it. Every morning on their birthday it's mostly gone and we celebrate their day as if it were a national holiday with decorations, their choice of activities, their favorite foods - and I try to be the birthday fairy and make all of their wishes come true.
This fairy better get to work - only 3 more days until the big day
:-)
1 comment:
We fathers feel that ache as well - but ours seem to be at more dramatic times and to me strike deeper and with much more remorse. We notice the time is gone only when it is so very obvious. The deepest I ever felt were in a college driveway when I could no longer see through tears to drive home - a picture of my five year old sweetheart blasting into my memory so vividly it hurt. The second was the first time I realized there would be no more rides to school as my son was now gone to college. You described it well - the small ones are an ache. These more definite ones, dragged up along with the ‘I should have’, ‘could have’ – ‘only wish I could now’ - remorse feel like pieces of you are gone - very precious pieces. Hang on to these yearly aches. Fight back with all your heart. Keep these precious times as long as you can -it will make the remorse less painful and perhaps cause both you and your 'little' one's to smile. - Dad
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