4-0, the digits marking my upcoming milestone birthday. Forty, probably more mid life than the alleged 50, but what’s at the forefront of my mind is the number 10. Ten, marking ten years without Larissa, ten years of growth, ten years of living with loss, and ten years of wonder. I wonder not just about the physical changes ten years would have brought, but all the possibilities ten years raising my firstborn could have presented.
I reflect back on my 30th birthday, celebrated with close family and friends with a belly ready to burst, but I was glowing. I marveled every day at the amazing ability and beauty of transforming my body to nourish and grow another little human being. Others may see a photo from my 30th differently, but what I see and hold dear to my heart is a woman already a mom with so much more love to give and a joy that was evident in the beauty I emitted. Fifty pounds overweight with an unbalanced gait pattern, but the most beautiful I’ve ever felt.
My fortieth birthday celebration of a tropical getaway was ruined because of COVID, as all travel plans have come to a halt. But as I get closer to my birthday, I’ve come to realize it’s not the cancellation of a trip or a pandemic that altered my feelings of this new decade I’m embracing, but rather the reality that every 10 years around the sun for me, there’s another little girl that should be celebrating the same. That’s the sneaky part of grief, it ebbs and flows, triggered by memories that sometimes bring a smile and other times a tear. I feel all those feelings right now, admiring my 30th birthday photo, looking at the beautiful family with which I am blessed, but feeling our loss pull at my heartstrings.
Despite my pouting and insistence on no 40th birthday celebration, I will celebrate this new decade. I’ll celebrate survival. I‘ll celebrate knowing that it’s almost a full decade of carrying this heavy grief and how far I’ve come as most days the weight I carry, although still there, is a lot less heavy than it was 10 years ago. I’ll celebrate my two beautiful children, here with me physically and not just in spirit, and the joy they restored in my heart. I’ll celebrate Larissa, the strength she gave me, the grieving moms she enabled me to comfort and the nine months of bliss she provided. I’ll celebrate with an extra piece of cake and a glass of wine to celebrate the little girl that made me a mom 10 years ago.