My birthday is a few days away, and it is bringing so many unexpected emotions my way. My birthday was once a day I looked forward to. I would excitedly proclaim that all of September be a celebration. I always said my birthday was my favorite holiday because I didn’t have to share it with anyone else.
I remember last year being the best birthday yet. We announced we were expecting our first child the day before, and had just arrived home from vacation. On the big day, my intense battle with morning sickness eased up just enough for me to put away six tacos. This was obviously a wonderful way for a pregnant woman nearing her second trimester to celebrate.
I remember thinking this was going to be the best year yet. This year was going to give me Aria, and would be filled with so much joy.
I didn’t see any of it coming. Aria’s diagnosis, her premature birth and her passing were all completely off my radar. I was expecting such a different outcome.
And now, as I beg God to bring me a better year this time around, I can’t help but fear that I’m missing something again. Is the suffering over, or am I in store for even more? My emotions are such a stark contrast to what they were just one year ago.
It’s a scary thing to live life after loss. It’s a huge leap of faith. I’m trusting that things will get better. I am choosing to cling to hope. But none of it is without fear.
All I intend to wish for as I blow out my candles in a few days, is that this year is a better year than the last.