First, I thought naturally of the day of her 'Birth'. And I cry at the thought of it every time. And not your normal, mommy-had-the-most-euphoric-experience-it-was-all-heaven cry. Like I wish I could forget that day all together.....and the 42 days that followed.I think of how horrified I was to have to say 'See you later' just 8 hours after delivery and watch the flight nurses take her away. While I stay in the hospital, alone, for an excruciating 48 hours after until I got released to be with her again. Then I wanna puke at that thought of living in a Family house, 3 blocks from the hospital she stayed in after recovering from surgery. I could go on but I won't. I relive it way too much anyway. My memory of these events will NEVER fade. Unfortunately. So I came to the conclusion I consciously dread her birthday. On purpose. because to ME, there was nothing to celebrate that day. For ME. As her mom.
Then I think of the devastating effects of going through all that, without my own mom. And I get really pissed off. So I don't go there often. But I needed her there. Enough said. I think of the isolating post par tum I suffered, in silence, for years after Carys was born. At times resenting her, like she had done something to ME. To make ME this way. Our mother/Daughter relationship suffered deeply for this way of thinking.
Only until Baylie-Shaye was born that I realized just how sick I had been all these years following Carys birth. How much Carys had suffered from an emotionally absent mom, who went through the motions of motherhood, like something tragic would end it at any point. Keeping my distance from my first born daughter like it was my duty to protect her in that way.
Fast forward, 8 years, to last week. When all these emotions and feelings come rumbling around the corner every September. And it finally hit ME.....Like a brick wall, if you will. Overwhelming me with clarity I have never known about Carys or myself.
September 15th....is NOT about ME anymore. It never was. It was never MY birthday to relive. It was hers. Carys Marie. It is her beautiful story , for me to tell, with love and compassion, kindness and devotion. It is NOT about ME. She has suffered too long with the dark clouds of that day. And all because of me. Because I drag my feet in planning her special day because it makes me sad. Because I dread remembering that day. I don't like talking about it. But again, it's NOT about me. I never got past the heartbreak of that day. And I pulled the sweetest child into that, in some way, tainting it for her too. Now that made me sick to my stomach thinking about it that way. But it was the truth. And I needed to acknowledge it as truth to move out of that part of the story. Because there is a beautiful story to be written someday about Carys and I. A beautiful story of how we met and grew to know and love each other to where we are today. Now I've only known this sweet girl of mine for 8 years now. But I know her best. And I love her best too. Because she is a gift and I know this to be true.
So Happy 8th birthday my sweet Carys.
I'm a luckier than you to know you.
You are the most loyal and kind soul
I have ever met.
Thank you for always loving me.
And I did learn new things about this rad girl named Carys over the weekend. She loves glitter.More than I gave her credit for.
She also loves treasures of all sorts. The more the better. Smaller things are more valued.She keeps everything (borderline hoarder) but still cute. Handwritten cards, erasers,stamps, stickers,jewelry, you name it, you will find it here in the closet.
Even her wardrobe changed over night. We actually went on our 1st shopping trip of her life over the weekend as a part of her birthday present. I don't take my girls shopping, shot me know right? I don't, and I don't think little people, with no job or income, can dictate their wardrobe choices. So in an effort to keep that up, I will do a once a year Birthday Shopping trip, where they can pick something they love. Give it a monetary limit but their choice, NOT MINE. And this is what she picked out. She actually wanted to just go with me(daddy was kinda sad) and told me she liked clothes with a "POP"! Her choice of word, not mine. I about died. Well these pop baby.
And Hats! She loves Hats! We have a collection starting. We had a blast that day. She told me it was the best day of her life. And after all that I had been thinking about, she couldn't have said it better and made it more worth it. While the greatness of that day might fade or be trumped by a more awesome event in the future, I will take it. Take it and make sure that HER day stays about HER for the rest of her life and mine.