Happy Birthday to Me

At approximately 12:45 AM this morning many, many years ago (more than I would like to admit), I was born.

So today – March 8th – is Mama Hen’s birthday.


Here are some stories from my most memorable past birthdays:

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My mom had no memories of my birth because she was totally knocked out on whatever drugs they gave delivering mothers back then. In fact, she sometimes mistakenly said my birthday was March 7th because she went into labor on that day.

My mom suspected that I was born breech because when she first saw me I was bruised and dented and very, very red. She never asked her doctor – which I find absolutely amazing.

I was my parents’ third child and they were convinced that I was a boy – so they never had picked out a girl’s name. My dad would tell the story that when my mom was still unconscious, the nurse asked him what the baby’s name would be. My dad always wanted a red-headed girl named Thelma. When he looked at me (and I was very, very red all over), he almost christened me Thelma, but (wisely) decided to wait until my mom woke up.

I guess if I had been named Thelma I could always have joined a group of Teenage Mystery Solvers and hung out with a Great Dane named Scooby Doo (fact check -- sorry her name was Velma -- not Thelma.)

Childhood birthdays were much different for me than they have been/will be for my girls. I was the third of six children. We didn’t have birthday parties every year. On our birthdays we’d get a homemade cake – first made by my mom, later by my mom and siblings -- and we’d get to pick what we’d eat for dinner that night (my favorite was Ham steak, mashed potatoes and creamed peas – YUCK!!!). We’d get one small gift. I did have a birthday party on my 6th birthday and once again when I turned 11 or 12 or 13 (I can’t remember). They were small get-togethers with a few kids.

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Fast forward to college. For my 21st birthday I had planned this magical evening where I would sample all the cocktails that I had always heard about while growing up. I was raised in a blue collar family. My parents didn’t drink cocktails or wine. My dad was a beer guy; my mom would (very rarely) take a shot of Irish whiskey or bourbon.

But I used to watch old movies on TV where people would drink exotic cocktails like Manhattans and Martinis and Brandy Alexander’s and Rob Roys and Daiquiris. So on my 21st birthday (BTW I really had not tried much alcohol before this night – so innocent), I went from bar to bar, showed my ID and ordered one of every drink imaginable. To this day I don’t remember how I got home. I was sick for the entire next day – it’s the first and only time I every got drunk.

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My next most memorable birthday happened when I turned 40. I was married at the time (had been with my husband since turning 25) and was – for the first time in my life – sad about an upcoming birthday. It wasn’t turning 40 that was the bummer. It was the realization that - if I didn’t do something soon - I would never have the opportunity to become a mom.

I always wanted kids (my ideal plan was to have 4 – 2 bio’s & 2 adopted). I always told my husband that I wanted kids. He wasn’t as keen on the idea. When we got married, he said he wanted to wait until the right time – when we knew our relationship was solid and when we were in the right place in our life. I was ok with waiting awhile.

Unfortunately, after a few years when I approached him with the prospect of having kids, his answer was all the same, “Not now, later.”

On the day I turned 40, I knew that it was now or never. I told my husband that I wanted to spend my birthday by myself. I went to a museum, took myself to lunch, did some shopping and I thought and thought and thought about being a mother. I cried at the prospect of possibly losing my husband in order to follow my dream to raise a family. But by the end of the day, I resolved that I couldn’t imagine my life without kids.

Shortly after my birthday, my husband and I started to visit a marriage counselor to resolve the issue about starting a family. Through those counseling sessions my husband finally admitted to me (and I think to himself) that he NEVER wanted children.

I then had to make the heart-wrenching decision to stay with him and forgo ever being a mother or to leave him and do it on my own. You all know what path I chose.

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I’ll end my birthday memories with a very happy one. In March of 2003 I was awaiting travel to China to meet Little Zo Peep.

I had not settled on a name for her before receiving my referral. I had a short list of family names to use. My plan had been to wait until I met my little one and determine which one fit her best. But the week before my birthday I had received forms that needed to be sent in on the 10th of March. On these forms I needed to fill in the name I was going to call her.

So on my birthday, my sister, my teenage niece and I went out for dinner and spent the entire dinner discussing the pros and cons of my list of names. By the end of that dinner I selected Little Zo Peep’s name. – And this became my most wonderful birthday ever.

This year I expect to have another wonderful birthday. My girls and I are going to go out to dinner. I’ll buy a nice glass of wine for myself and the three of us – Zo Peep with some soda pop in a wineglass, Libby Doodle Doo with some juice in a sippy and I will toast my birthday. Perhaps this birthday – and all birthdays that follow -- will forevermore be my best ones yet.