Usually once a day I log on to the Facebook and my first stop is the “On This Day” feature. I like looking back on what I was doing three, four, five years ago. I eschew a lot of aspects of social media and particularly Facebook, but this isn’t one of them. Sometimes I smile appreciatively to myself, thinking about how witty I was. Sometimes I laugh to myself and think “I must have woke up on the wrong side of the bed that morning.” Sometimes I remember exactly what prompted me to post those seemingly random lyrics, quotes or memes.
Today, going back to 2008 through 2013, I made a yearly post about March 1st marking the beginning of my “Birthday Month.” That’s right – a birthday wasn’t enough for me, I celebrated the whole damn month! I was a total birthday diva. Dinners with friends, family, co-workers. Cakes. Shopping trips. Vacation to Disney one year. I went harder on my birthday than on Christmas – lots of people celebrate Christmas. I knew only one other person who celebrated March 8th.
The Birthday Month posts ended in 2013. I was kind of surprised by this until it hit me. March 1, 2014 was less than a week after our first loss. Clearly I was in no mood for celebrating and self congratulations. Last year we were trying again after Loss #2, and also approaching Baby 2’s Due Date (March 15), so again I wasn’t feeling festive.
My mother called me yesterday and asked what I wanted to do for my birthday. Dinner out? Take out at her house? Is there a favorite meal she could cook? I got annoyed at her questioning… All I did was survive a year! I told her… People do it everyday! Who cares? I told her…WHAT DOES IT MATTER? I asked…. Sounding more and more like my father.
One of the nicest memories I have of the immediate aftermath of my first loss is, coincidentally, my birthday. I didn’t want to go out. I didn’t want to do anything. We ended up going to her house and she made homemade pizza, chicken wings and mac & cheese. With ice cream cake. That menu is close to my ultimate “comfort meal” and I can’t tell you how excited I was for a buffet of that cheesy, fattening, high cholesterol inducing food. I loved it. Last year was okay, but I don’t remember it as fondly for whatever reason. Maybe because instead of feeling like I just had “bad luck” and perhaps could bring home a child soon if we gave it another go, I was starting to realize there might be more to my losses than bad luck but wasn’t sure what or why.
Anyway… I’m not looking forward to being another year older. I suppose I am trying to age gracefully, but I am aware that my fertility is decreasing exponentially each year (or so the experts say) and all I can picture is empty ovaries all shriveled up like a prune or something. The thought of my impending birthday and getting another year older just makes me feel more anxious to be moving towards something, anything – trying naturally, adoption, whatever – instead of feeling like I’m wasting time. Thirty three is Larry Bird’s number though, and he’s a Boston sports hero, and I always play black 33 when I’m playing roulette at Foxwoods – so it can’t be that bad, right? (Don’t answer that.)
If you’re still reading this, here is a four leaf clover for you as we enter March – I hope it brings you good luck and happiness!