A year ago yesterday, I was in Portland, Oregon with Ivan and my dear friend Tess.
We were couch surfing in a large abandoned looking mansion and I awoke on my birthday in a large tent on the top floor. Ivan gave me a present that he had sneakily planned together with my friend Adele. (Tickets to see Kings of Leon play at the Gorge in Washington).
I went for my birthday run through Portland. I remember it so clearly. I ran across the Steel Bridge and along the waterfront. It was beautifully sunny but not too hot yet. I wasn’t hungover because Ivan and I were already suspecting that a little one was growing inside me. I got back to the mansion hot and sweaty. I showered in the ‘shower’ and then the three of us spent the day perusing Portland. We ate a leisurely brunch. We strolled through the market. We ate Tom & Jerry ice cream. We played video games indoors. We visited the famous book shop. We drank coffee. It was wonderful. And I spent the whole day feeling a teeny bit more awesome than I usually would.
On every single birthday that I have ever had, I remember feeling a bit more awesome than usual. I never understood people who didn’t like their birthdays as I just adored that special feeling that I got. Even if not much was happening, I would go about my day with a strange sense of entitlement to feeling important.
But yesterday I awoke like any other day. Well, no that’s a lie. I awoke on the couch. But as Ivan and Mika showered me with kisses, it wasn’t until Ivan said ‘happy birthday’ that I remembered what was going on. We did my birthday jog and I showered and we met friends for brunch and still, I didn’t feel that feeling.
My friends had all pitched in to buy me the camera lens I’ve been dreaming of owning. Another couple of my friends paid for my brunch. Ivan changed Mika’s diapers all day. It was wonderful. And still I didn’t feel overly special.
My mum cooked a delicious requested meal for dinner and 6 of us dined and chatted and ate delicious healthy carrot cake for dessert. And still, wasn’t feeling it.
And last night at 11pm Ivan said, ‘only 1 more hour to go!’ and I shrugged and closed my eyes and prayed that sleep would come easily.
I wonder if it will always be like this now? I’m sure Mika’s birthdays are going to be much more exciting and meaningful to me than my own. In fact, on my birthday I found myself thinking more of my Mum & Dad than of myself and how significant it must be for them. But perhaps (and hopefully) it will pass. Maybe next birthday I’ll get that awesome feeling back.
A birthday vote for us on Top Baby Blogs! Thank you