Thank you, Mom

It's my 29th birthday today.

I’m a year older; Hopefully, a year wiser.

Everyone in my family goes all out on birthdays. So grand celebrations are like a tradition.

Usually, my party will commence with cutting a cake, which is followed by popping balloons, playing games, dining together, and having loud conversations.

Everyone brings gifts and either talks about me or to me. I bask in the attention and love they shower. It’s one of the best days of the year and I look forward to it every time.

In 2023, my birthday was rather dull.

I was pregnant and no amount of flattery, fun, or dining could cheer me up. My hormones had gone rogue and I threw up the only bite of cake I had. Summing up, my 28th birthday was awful.

I told myself I’ll make it up in 2024 with a bigger cake.

This year, my birthday started well. I woke up happy despite being sleep-deprived because of my six-month-old’s growth-spurt-driven feeding.

My husband beat everyone to wishing me. He gave me a heart-shaped, hand-written letter saying sweet things. I received calls from my family and friends sending birthday wishes. They ensured they would show up for the party on time.

I exercised, showered, and devoured a healthy breakfast while my husband looked after our daughter. After that, I began my mommy duties and nursed her to her morning nap.

As she slept, her curly black hair fell effortlessly on her broad forehead. She was blessed with long eyelashes and behind those closed doors were warm, chocolate-brown eyes. Her soft lips pressed tightly together around the little fingers of her right palm.

She has grown so much in six months. In another six months, she’ll have a birthday a voice cooed inside. My baby will be one this year.

I would dress her up in a heavily embellished frock and tiara. Photographers will click evergreen pictures of the three of us in adorable poses. Family and friends will bring gifts. Everyone will celebrate her and talk of the party as long they live.

My heart filled with a fluffy feeling. My eyes welled up with tears because of overwhelming joy and gratitude. Something strange dawned upon me as I relished in the sea of happy emotions.

While everyone paints the town red on my daughter's birthday, I will silently cherish the first anniversary of my motherhood.

My daughter’s first birthday will mark the anniversary of the day I underwent my first surgery. It will also be one year since the day I nursed first. The first time I changed a diaper. First swaddling, and so on. So, her birthday will be the anniversary of all this.

Most importantly, it’ll be the anniversary of my motherhood. Nevertheless, I’ll also be growing with her — just not in the same way.

When she takes her first steps, I’ll learn to teach her to walk. When she says her first words, I’ll learn to train her to talk.

So her birthdays are anniversaries of my motherhood. Her 2nd birthday will honor two years of my motherhood. Her 3rd, three. Her 4th, four.

Just like how today is the 29th anniversary of my mother’s motherhood.

Suddenly, the day stopped being about me. It became about my mother. Her pain, her sacrifice, her determination, and most of all, her love.

I’ve lived for 348 months or 10593 days or 254232 hours or 15253920 minutes, yet, it never occurred to me how special today is to her. Why did it take me so long to figure this out? I wondered with guilt.

“You’ll understand when you have a baby,” she always said. Another thing she is right about.

Maybe that should change I thought to myself.

“How do you feel today?” I asked my mother hesitantly. She was picking an outfit for the party.

Never have I thanked her for giving me life. How will she react?

“I mean, years back on this day you became a mother,” her confused expression encouraged me to continue. “So, isn’t today also the 29th anniversary of that?”

She burst out laughing. “What makes you think like that?” she asked playfully, eyeing her granddaughter sleeping in my arms. Thankfully, she didn’t wait for an answer. Otherwise, I would have melted from embarrassment.

“I’m glad you can acknowledge how special today is to me. Even so, today is still about you because of all the things that happened that day, your being born was the best.”

In the evening I held my mother’s hand as we drove the knife down the chocolate cake together. I fed a piece of the cake to her, and she did the same with me. Our families stood beside us singing Happy Birthday, oblivious of why we cut the cake together. The rest of the party was as lively and funfilled as anticipated.

On the same day, next year, I will have more than one reason to celebrate. With that in mind, I began the countdown again!