34

Today is my birthday. I'm 34. I know it sounds cliche, but it feels like I was just:

• turning 13 and finding the tiny cocker spaniel puppy hidden in the bathroom closet
• turning 16 and checking out my maroon Buick Skylark parked in the driveway
• turning 19 and eating frozen cake in my dorm room with Erica and Lori
• turning 21 and walking into my surprise birthday party in Brookwood
• turning 25 and getting ready for my wedding
• turning 29 and going through my first IVF cycle
• turning 30 and celebrating because I was finally pregnant with my miracle baby
• turning 31 and enjoying a surprise birthday/graduation party to celebrate my hard-earned master's degree

The time truly flies and I have loved every birthday. Sometimes, though, I think that it's all about me...my life, my celebration, my gifts, my cake, my perfect day. But what I have tried to remember the past few years (since giving birth to Kate) is that on my very first birthday, there was another woman who was much braver and stronger and more deserving of celebration than me and that is the woman who gave birth to me...my amazing mother. Ladies - let's admit it...giving birth is difficult and overwhelming and scary and emotional. It requires us to be brave and to be strong and to wonder if we're going to make it through the experience. And then for the next 100 years, it is the baby who is celebrated. And so, on my birthday, I want to celebrate my mom - for loving me enough before she even met me to go through the craziness of childbirth and welcome me into the world. That is truly a special gift.