Last weekend my daughter celebrated her eleventh birthday.  It was her first in-person birthday party since the pandemic hit.  She invited a small group of friends – some from school, some from dance, and some from our street.  The day was a rollercoaster of emotion, including tears of disappointment, excitement and laughter, and then exhaustion. 

Over the last few months, we have been redecorating my daughter’s bedroom to update it for her teenaged years. The day of her birthday party we spent several hours putting the finishing touches on her room – hanging photos and cleaning up – so that she could do a big reveal for her friends at her party.  Then we had just a sliver of time to enjoy some calm before her friends arrived. 

The party went off without a hitch.  My worries about dynamics between girls who were meeting each other for the first time and about the girls including a little sister who also attended vanished as my daughter and her friends all navigated the activities with kindness and laughter.  We sang happy birthday and my daughter was shy about the attention on her when we brought out the cake. The girls found ways to entertain themselves: they played basketball and bubbles outside and engaged in an impromptu game of hide-and-seek.  My daughter received thoughtful gifts from her friends and thanked them graciously.  I was thankful that my good friend Amy, (yep the same Amy who helped me master the art of showing up) whose daughter also came, stayed to help with the crafts and spend time hanging out with Robby and I. 

For the rest of the evening, my daughter hung out with her BFF from our street.  She stayed for dinner and then as a special birthday treat, my daughter and her BFF were able to hang out later than their usual bedtime.  That night, I tucked my daughter in and lay down beside her.  She cuddled into my shoulder and we talked about the day.  We reflected on how it had been a really nice birthday and the party had gone really smoothly. I congratulated her on her grace in accepting the gifts and on how the girls interacted with one another with respect during the entire party. 

Although she lay exhausted on my shoulder, I could tell she was willing herself to stay awake.  It was just ten minutes before midnight by this time, and she kept counting down the minutes left in her birthday.  

Just five minutes left…

Just three minutes left…

Just one minute left…

I wished her a final happy birthday.   

As soon as the clock hit midnight, she turned to me and said: “Happy Mother’s Day Mom.”  Surprised, I thanked her and cuddled in tighter.  It was one of those tender, unexpected moments.  A moment when a little girl who had been excited about her birthday for months, willed herself to stay awake so she could wish me a Happy Mother’s Day.  My heart was full.

As we continued to cuddle, I then heard my daughter’s tiny little voice say: “Thank you for the best birthday ever.” Seconds later she fell asleep.   

I lay there listening to her deep, even breath and, to my surprise, tears started welling up in my eyes.   As I lay there with tears streaming down my face, emotions that I didn’t even realize were there started silently spilling out.  I reflected on how big of a deal it is to celebrate my daughter’s eleventh birthday.  I reflected on all the years Robby and I have spent worrying about her; learning about how to parent and keep her safe as a child with a life-threatening allergy; and figuring out how to support her to manage all the anxieties that have come along with it.  

Through those tears, I reflected on the added anxiety that the global pandemic has caused: the interruption to predictable routines; the added fears and anxieties relating to safety that have been layered on top of her allergy from the additional threat of COVID-19; disappointment in not being able to participate in extracurricular activities; and of course the sadness of not being able to have friends over to celebrate her ninth and tenth birthdays.   

Then I was hit with the realization that it is a gift to celebrate her eleventh birthday at all.  I imagine that this is a feeling shared by other parents whose children are vulnerable in one way or another.  In that moment, I understood the magnitude of celebrating each of her birthdays – and the significance of having made her eleventh  birthday the best one ever. 

Those tears were yet another tender moment that took me by surprise.  They helped me reflect on the vulnerability and preciousness of life. They helped me reflect on the wonder of watching my daughter navigate a complex reality that would be hard on anyone.  Those tears helped me reflect on the fact that even though she has stumbled over the years, she is finally starting to navigate life with joy and grace.  

In that moment I realized that all those years of struggle and worry for Robby and I have been worth it.  Through those unexpected tears, I felt a weight had been lifted and in place of worry and fear, I was left with a deep sense of gratitude.  Because after all, an eleventh birthday certainly is something to celebrate. 

We would love to hear your thoughts in the comments section below this article.

And if you liked this article, check out: