So, happy birthday to me. Yep, it's today. It is, also, Baby O's 3 month birthday today. Here he is:
Anyway. So, how to phrase this . . . last year my birthday was also Calla's due date. Last year I was still in the corner, licking my fresh, oozing wounds. I was still in fresh-grief dazedness. I didn't really think about what moving forward would feel like, because I was so firmly rooted in THEN.
But here we are now. And every year my birthday will be tied to my missing little girl. When I realized that her due date was my birthday, I felt bad. Who wants to share their birthday with their MOM? Boo. But I guess I'm thankful, now. I don't have her physical self. But every year, I get to celebrate her, too. My wounds are beginning to scab over; they get nicked and start to bleed every now and then. Eventually they will be a scar, a reminder of rough times in the past.
February 9th will always be our day, little one.