All right, all right, I’ll admit it. I’m a little hurt. A lot hurt, actually. At least I was until I better understood what is going on today.
Today. May 12. The day when, for the last five years, we have celebrated my birthday, has all but come and gone with (almost) no recognition from my forever family. There were no presents. There was no birthday ice cream cone I always get. There was only a brief mention by mom this morning as dad left for that place called work that it was my birthday. Cue some extra love from dad. And a little extra love from mom throughout the day.
But I know my family and the day is now almost over. And nothing.
I figured that out after mom returned from a quick unscheduled visit to her doctor with news. “It could happen any time now,” she told dad, Carter and I. I’ve known she’s in pain. I’ve known she’s been struggling to do basic everyday tasks. But this somehow managed to take me by complete surprise. Dad too, for that matter. Carter carried on as he usually does, running amid screeching giggles throughout the house.
It hit the three of us then, in that moment, the truth we’ve known but somehow felt unreal until now. This is happening. There is going to be a new little person. Soon.
Mom cried. Dad got quiet. And I stood by, opting to set aside my prior disposition toward the day. They need me now more than ever. I know they love me as well as I know I will get that ice cream cone eventually. Sometimes special things get rescheduled to accommodate life. And that’s okay. Because this is life we’re talking about. And that’s worth shifting things around for.