A birthday isn't only about the person who was born that day. Another person who has a right to celebrate is the one who did all the hard work and delivered that baby xxxx years ago. I was first struck by that thought on April 13 when my son marked his 40th, and again today, when my mother called, with the help of my sister, from Oklahoma. My mom can't easily make a phone call anymore even though her phone has my number in its databank and she needs only to push a button. If she succeeds in making the call and gets my answering machine it throws her into confusion. My mother suffers from dementia, possibly Alzheimer's, and is in an assisted living home.
So I had to remind her where she gave birth to me, her firstborn...Kingsville, Texas. And I asked her if she remembers anything from that long ago day, but it's gone from her memory. Because I live so far away, someday she may not remember me, either. But I won't dwell on that. For now, she's still delighted to hear my voice and we can have a brief conversation. And maybe later my sister will open this blog and show it to Mother and she'll be pleased that I remembered what a significant day this is for her, too.
Happy Birth Day, Mom.