Mom and Birthdays

What power that word holds. Only one person can ever be that person, and no one can come along and fill that space no matter how hard they try. And yet, we are shaped by the person who fills that role. Who is mom.

I would like to say that only the last 12 birthdays have been hard, but that would be a lie. I dont know what it is about this time of year that makes me feel so miserable and hopeless. Most people enjoy thier birthday, but I hate it. Every year it becomes one terrible disappointment after the next. This year is lining up to be no exception. The only good memories I have of any parts of my birthday involve my mom. She always tried to make it so great....but yet, it seems like there was always something.

When I was turning 5, My mom was planning this party for me. My parents had finally divorced the year before...and for my first birthday, minus my father's responisibility...she was trying. Then she got sick, ended up in the hospital during my birthday. Her best friend Bev came and hosted my little party. Bev got me a little satin and lace purse and hat. Funny how you remember the little things. But, she wasnt there.

Then there was the year I was in the hospital for my 8th birthday. On my 9th it was really sunny outside. My grandpa fixed the car that day. 10, 11, ....For my 12th i had a sleep over. It was the only time in my whole childhood I was allowed to invite any friends into my grandparents house. My 14th, I had my first girl/boy party. The boy I like lied to me. I can not believe how much that lie still hurts all these years later. My 19th, my mother bought me a lace nightie and informed me...I needed it to make her grandbabies. She did not care for son-in-laws...but she wanted grandbabies.

It was my 21st that was the rock bottem. It was 5 days after it, I took a bottle of pain pills and a bottle of sleeping pills and washed it down with a fifth of Vodka. My dad showed up with my stepmom in tow...first time i had seen him in years. I had been raped a few months earlier...and my life was so out of control. My dad proceeded to make my birthday hell. The next day, mom and johnna were suppose to come down to spend the day with me. Only, Johnna showed up. Mom had a headache. Johnna stopped and picked up a cake, with whip cream icing i hate. Fought with me for an hour, and then turned around and left. It was a hell of a birthday.

I spent the next one in a psych ward for depression...my mom in the hospital for a drug reaction she was given for her migraines. Then by the time a year rolled around and I was 23, my mom was dead.

I hate this time of year. God, Please do not let me fail my kids when it comes to birthdays and please, let them remember good things.