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On Sharing My Birthday with My Daughter
Eight years ago, when I found out I was pregnant for the first time and due to deliver on my birthday, everybody told me to kiss my special day goodbye. Never again would the day be about me, but it would forever be claimed by my child instead.
I ended up laboring throughout my entire 26th birthday, and after 36 hours of grueling labor, pushed out a beautiful baby girl named Piper Kay, just a couple hours after my birthday officially ended.
That was eight years ago today.
Want to know how I really feel about sharing my birthday with my daughter?
I absolutely love it, and wouldn’t have it any other way.
Technically, we each have our own day. My birthday is the 9th, and she was born a couple hours past midnight, and claiming November 10th as her day. But on years like this, where both birth dates are on the weekend, the individual days seem to melt into one gigantic celebration of us.
But you know what, everyone was completely right. My birthday is not my own anymore, and the day isn’t mine. It’s hers, and it’s ours. Today, we went out to breakfast together, just the two of us, to celebrate each other. And then this afternoon, we went to the new Disney movie Wreck-It Ralph. Tonight, we’re going out as a family to her favorite restaurant for dinner so she can order popcorn shrimp.
It’s funny how becoming a parent has changed me in was I never thought possible. Even to this day, I wouldn’t necessarily call myself someone who loves to share her stuff, and if given a chance 8 years ago, probably would have liked to have a little bit more distance between our birthdays.
But honestly, I genuinely enjoy sharing my birthday with my daughter, and being able to celebrate her life has become the greatest birthday gift I get to give myself every year.
How about you? Is there anyone else out there that shares their birthday with their child? I would love to know how you feel about it.