Well, it's here again. Today is my birthday. It always does something to me internally and emotionally.

Being totally honest, it has nothing to do with my age. Ever since I was 19 years old and gave birth to my own child, my birthday has affected me differently. When I get to within a few hours of my birthday, I wonder if (42 years ago now) she was in labor at this time. Does she remember that she was in labor all those years ago? When it becomes May 5, does she remember that she gave birth on that very day? Does she think about me? How could she NOT?

Granted, I have come to terms with this the last few of years. Don't get me wrong! I love my family. They ARE my family, but I still wonder. How can you give birth, and not remember or think about it every year? ...every day, even?

You see, when my son's birthday comes around, I always remember everything I went through then. I remember being in "false labor" (umm, sure. I was still in pain!) for 3 days before I went into the hospital and my labor stopped. They didn't believe me until I insisted they check me out -- and how shocked they were that I was already 2 cm dilated. I remember him being a "dry birth" because the doctors didn't believe me when I told them my water had broken. Just because it wasn't a huge splash of water in the middle of the grocery store (or wherever), they didn't think I knew what it was! I remember being induced and being given too much medicine at once. I remember pushing. I remember his little tiny body leaving mine. And again I wonder. How can you go through that and not remember? ...not think about it?

Maybe she does. I don't know. Maybe it pains her. Maybe she just doesn't want to think about it. Maybe she wonders where I am. Who knows? I have no ill will toward her at all. I definitely think she did the right thing and saved my life. I hope she realizes this still. I hope it brings her peace instead of heartache.

But yet, I can't stop wondering about it all on this day...