Every September 22 my mom calls and says “HAPPY BIRTHDAY”!!!!
I always say “THANKS FOR HAVING ME!!!”
She always chuckles and says “It was my pleasure!”
I always say “Pleasure? Really?”
Labor, just so you know, is not always equated with pleasure.
But I do have to say thanks. First, I must note that apparently she took good enough care of herself to make sure I was born healthy and well. And I was. Of the eight of us I was the “healthiest” at 8lbs and 13 ounces. (A little piece of trivia: my grandson was born at the exact same weight.)
She then had the foresight to make sure I was her favorite. The rest of them were practice.
So, if not for her giving birth to me, there are a lot of things I would not have had the honor and privilege of achieving, experiencing and living. (Dad gets credit as well. But on a birthday I think the one who suffered the most to get you out and in to this world gets some extra kudos.) Not that I was a pain to have. Despite what I just said about labor.
If not for me she would not have a standard to measure the rest of the children up against. Don’t be jealous or righteous or pft-ing. Some things are just the way they are.
Without giving birth to all of my healthy self, she would not have known how grateful to be when birthing those five pounders and seven pounders. You’re welcome on that one mom.
Giving birth to me allowed me the chance to wallow through concrete. A story I don’t think I’ve shared yet. Eh, I fell in it they say, they hosed me off they say, all is well. But for the sand and gravel still stuck in my cranium.
Having birthed me I experienced life with seven other children and quickly learned self defense. Something that came in handy many years later when I achieved a black belt (or 2, 3, 4) status.
My birth allowed the sisters being born after me to not be born to the “oldest girl in a large Irish Catholic” family syndrome. There are many of you who understand this.
My birth led me to my childhood, which led me to my teenage years, which led me to my twenties and so on. You get that picture. But without it I would not have known some very specific joys, learned valuable lessons, or conquered self (debilitating) doubt. Some lessons on loving life as me:
I love cheesecake.
I love to write.
I love to see beautiful things and am stunned by glorious visions others create.
I learned that I have value to others. And this made me cry.
I love riding bicycle.
I love to sweat.
I love my family.
I am strong enough to have children of my own.
I am blessed to have my children.
I don’t know that I can’t do anything. Or, I have learned I can do anything I want to try.
I believe in the power of good.
I have learned that I have common sense and those who don’t make stupid laws and regulations.
I would not have known how great “Cowboy Stew” is.
I wouldn’t know the incredible feeling of success and ability when I lost 80 pounds and looked in the mirror and saw me looking back.
I learned that I have value based on who I decide to be. Not on what others did to me.
I know I am forgivable.
I know that no matter where I go there is someone who loves me.
If I had not been born I would not know the love of parents, the bond of siblings, the devotion of friends. I would never have experienced the suffering of a struggle, the courage to face fear, or the pure joy of a baby you love who hugs you and wants nothing from you but to be loved by you.
If birth had not brought me forth…. I would have none of the gift of what has been my life.
You gave me life to find my courage, to grow my strength, and to become who I am suppose to be.
If I had not been born, and mom had not had the pleasure of having me, you all wouldn’t be reading this blog right now and there would be this elusive feeling you would all, jointly and yet unknown to one another, be experiencing…
What is missing from my life……
So, Mom, thanks for having me.
Happy anniversary of having the pleasure to have me Mom!