Tag Archives: Birthday


26 Sep

Yesterday was my 33rd birthday.

This is what 30 looked like (pregnancy #2).

This was 31 (about to get pregnant with Nadav, thinking the worst was behind me).

This was 32 (trying to achieve pregnancy #5, mourning, mourning, mourning Nadav).

On Tuesday night, I was feeling a little down. I understood that it was connected somehow to my birthday but I wasn’t quite sure how. Then I realized, it was just a bit of a sting. A hint of what should have been. 33 was not “supposed” to be the year I became a mother to a living child. That was “supposed” to happen at 30. I spent Tuesday missing Nadav, and reliving my first three losses again. It wasn’t horrible, just a heaviness that sort of sat on my shoulders for a while.

So the night before my 33rd birthday, I spent mourning what could have been.

But that mourning was short lived.

On the morning I turned 33 I left Bunny at home with her dad. I got in the car after not having driven for over 6 months. I went to the mall and to the supermarket. I went grocery shopping alone for the first time in months and months. I went window shopping for a dress for my brother-in-law’s wedding.

I walked around the shops for a while, browsing, mostly ignoring dresses and looking for something cute for Bunny. I didn’t buy her anything, but I casually looked around. It was nice.

When I was done shopping and was loading the groceries into the car it hit me like a ton of bricks. I had been out of the house for 2 hours. This was the longest I’d been away from Bunny since the day she was born. On the drive home I was singing a little happy song to myself. It had been two hours, and I was so excited to be seeing my daughter again. I realized how much I missed her and just wanted to see her little face.  The prospect of seeing her again made me feel like a giddy teenager.

When I walked in the house I didn’t care that one of my best friends had come to visit and was waiting for me with a present. I made a beeline for Bunny and kissed her all over. It took several minutes until I even acknowledged anyone else in the room, or the fact that there were groceries that were still waiting in the trunk of the car.

In the evening, my parents came over to watch Bunny so Shmerson and I could go out (thank you formula!). We headed to our favorite restaurant and ordered a bottle of Cava, which I attacked with appropriate relish after not having a drop of alcohol for ten months (and of course after calling to check on Bunny).

Sometime during dinner I went to the bathroom, and found myself looking in the mirror.

And it hit me.

I haven’t looked in the mirror – I mean REALLY looked in the mirror in over three years. Always in passing, never truly looking. I looked away for three years. I avoided myself. Always.

And yet over the past three weeks I’ve been looking in mirrors. Examining myself. Looking at myself holding Bunny. Even asking Shmerson to take the occasional picture of me with Bunny. Because I want pictures of us together. I’m supposed to hate getting my picture taken. Not so much any more. I look tired. I’m fat – there’s no getting around that fact. I have stretch marks up the wazoo. But that doesn’t really bother me that much. Because I also look vibrant. I look happy.

And when I look in the mirror, I no longer feel the urge to look away.

We enjoyed the restaurant, but we didn’t stay too long. As soon as the check was paid I didn’t want to linger. Yes, it was nice to be out. It was nice to be tipsy.

It was even nicer to be heading home to my daughter.

I got home and covered her in kisses. And cuddled her for hours.



This is what 33 looks like.

Crappy Birthday to Me

25 Sep

So today I’m 32 years old.

It’s also Yom Kippur eve, which means that at 5pm today everything closed down, and no cars were on the streets. Needless to say, the drunken celebration was last night and today all I have is quiet.

I generally love Yom Kippur. I don’t fast, I don’t go to services – but the quiet that falls on the entire country is beautiful to me.

Since no cars are on the road, kids ride their bikes in the middle of the street and everyone walks to some central place in the city and just hangs out for most of the night.

Today though, I couldn’t enjoy walking in the middle of the road. I couldn’t enjoy this rare bit of quiet.

All I could do was think about the fact that today I turn 32, and he was supposed to be here with me.

Shmerson and I would have taken him out in his stroller, and walked around, taking in the quiet and the kids on their bikes.

I would have held him as my mother brought out the cake, and he would have helped me blow out the candle. He would have been three months old.

So today, instead of quiet I feel the emptiness of what would have been.

And hope against all hope that next year – 33 – will be easier.

Bullets and Bunnies: Happy Birthday to Me!

25 Sep
  • I turned 31 today! I was kind of dreading this birthday to be honest. This time last year I was pregnant, and I thought that I would most likely end up spending most of today crying. Funny enough, not a tear was shed.
  • Last night was AWESOME! Seriously. It was just a small group of us out at a restaurant, but it was exactly the kind of celebration I needed. Plus, there was MEAT!!!
  • I got drunk for the first time in 6 months last night (yay new happy pills!). I’m a total lightweight. 2 glasses of Cava and two Fijling chasers and I was a goner. It made for some pretty amusing moments. I decided that the invention of those eco hand dryers is all a big conspiracy to put the paper towel manufacturers out of business. I also announced out loud to the entire group that I personally found it very lame of me that it had been six months since my last drink, yet only 4 months since my last miscarriage. I thought that was hilarious. Actually, I still kind of do. And no, I’m not drunk. I swear!
  • People have spent the last twenty four hours wishing me health, happiness, and *insert something here that hints at a baby without actually saying the word “baby” or the word “pregnancy”, but hoping I know what they mean*. Seriously. Everyone. Even Shmerson during his toast said “extra health”, not “baby”. Since I was two sheets to the wind at that point I just yelled out “and a baby!!!!!” Of course, he later rectified this omission with his amazing post from last night. How lucky am I? Seriously.
  • The only person (except Shmerson) who wished me a baby this year is also the person that made me cry today. My cousin, who is about 10 years older than me has this absolutely AMAZING daughter, who recently turned 18. I love this kid. She’s talented, she’s smart, she’s funny, and she reminds me a lot of myself, only with way more wisdom than I had at her age. She called me about 30 minutes ago to wish me a happy birthday. She told me how much she loved me, and how I felt more like a big sister to her than anything else. Then she wished me a baby. Flat out. “You want a baby, I want you to get your wish this year.” This is what I love about kids (I know, she’s 18, but she’s still a kid to me). They have no tact sometimes. No sense of taboo. That’s exactly what I needed to hear. And I love her so much for saying it out loud.
  • Things that have made me feel old: Ok. I know I’m ONLY 31 or whatever, but teaching this week has totally made me feel like an adult. Today was my birthday and I had to give my 11th grade girls a test. On my birthday. They did sing “Happy Birthday” to me before the test. But I just sat there, thinking “holy crap it’s my birthday and I’m giving a test.” One of the girls asked me how old I was. I told her. Then she asked me if I was married. I said yes. She asked me if I had kids. I said no. She said “My sister is 31 and she has four kids”. Remember what I said regarding tact and young people in my previous bullet point? I temporarily scratch that to punch that girl. But only in my imagination. In the moment, I smiled and said “We’re working on it.”
  • Last week I was walking home from teaching my 10th graders. Two of my students were sitting at a bus stop giggling. And looking at me. Then I realized they were embarrassed because they were seeing a teacher outside of school. Then I realized I was that teacher. *sigh* I just wish I could shake them and say “Hey! I’m just as young and awesome as you!” I remember how OLD my teachers looked to me when I was 16. Do I really look like that to them? That’s a scary proposition.
  • That doesn’t mean I don’t love teaching. I truly, truly do. I’m enjoying every minute.
  • I can’t help but compare this year to last. I have to say, I may be one year and two miscarriages older, but I definitely think I’m happier now. A lot of it is thanks to this blog and all of you guys. I love you all. Seriously. (Still not drunk!)
  • I leave you with a video that AK posted on my FB wall in honor of my birthday. My friends are awesome. Seriously.
Here’s hoping 31 sucks much less than 30.
Here’s hoping it’s actually a good one!

Happy Birthday Shmersonette!

25 Sep

Hemmo everyone!

It’s Shmerson again. Yeah, I know – long time no see. So, it’s Mo’s birthday! At least here it is. The rest of you will have to wait a few hours, but who cares? Right now, Mo’s drunk for the first time in 6 months, and I’m just happy, or drunk-by-proxy (designated driver thankyouverymuch) and we’re waiting for our favorite show to finish downloading, and I’m writing my Shmersonette a birthday post!

September was always a beginning of a new year for us. Because of Rosh-Hashana (the beginning of a new year according to the Jewish calendar) which is usually in September, the beginning of school year when we were younger, and also because its the month with both mine and Shmersonette’s birthdays.

But I feel like we already started our new year, on May 27th. Without ever deciding that’s how it should be, I think of our anniversary as our new birthday, our new Rosh Hashana.

Let me explain: our first pregnancy started right after our wedding, yada yada yada (it’s a happy post and you know the story), and our last miscarriage was a little before our first anniversay. But ever since then:  We had a very happy anniversary, I finally picked my major, and Mo made some career choices (still working on that), we bought a new and wonderful apartment  (BTW- we signed the contract exactly a month after our anniversary). We sold our old apartment (BTW- guess when the buyer saw the apartment for the first time- exactly two months after our anniversary). Shmersonette had that surgery, which is also a good thing. We ran some tests and they all look very good. Things are looking great. It feels as if really all of the crappy things decided to happen during our first year as a married couple, and ever since the beginning of our second year we’ve had nothing but good luck and achievements.

So we’re in the middle of the Shmersons-year, and I just wish it continues to  go as it’s been going. We’re going to move to a wonderful new apartment. I’m going to find a new job and so is Shmersonette. And sometime during the current Shmersons-year we’re going to have a BFP. This time it will be followed by seeing a heartbeat, feeling a kick. This time it’s going to end with a healthy baby. Not all of this will happen before May 27th, but some of it will, I truly believe it.

There’s something I wanted to tell you, Shmersonette. You say sometimes that you’re angry with your body for everything that has happened. I don’t think you should be.

What we’re trying to do here is unbelievable. It’s such a special thing to do that the Flying Spaghetti Monster, in its wisdom, decided that only women can do it. And only for about a third of their expected lifespan. Also, you can try starting it only during a few days each month. That’s how special it is.

And your body didn’t betray you. It was very very loyal to you. It told you things before the doctors knew. Three times it noticed that something was wrong, and three times it did what it had to do. I don’t want to think where we would be if your body wasn’t smart enough to notice something was wrong.  That doesn’t make what happened less sad for us, but it’s good to know that we can count on your body’s loyalty and the wisdom of the FSM.

I admire your body, and I’m sorry I can’t take some of your pain. I could never do for you  what you will eventually do for me. Isn’t this fact about your body amazing enough?

A few weeks ago, after a conversation similar to this post, I sent Shmersonette the lyrics to a song I like. It was written by Israeli singer-songwriter Noam Rotem for his wife who had cancer (she’s okay now). I give you that song, badly translated by me:

To the End of the Day

I want to get to the end of the day
Clouds in the sky meet in orange
There’s no need for a messiah or a rapture
Here’s what is promised when you’re with me

I see the flower and the human body
Stalactites of salt in caves by the sea
The way that snowflakes, like a magnificent puzzle
Are gathering piece by piece on the mountaintop

The way the grass shines when we make love
Every breath you take is like a musical note

I love every scar on that white body
As you bathe they shine in their beauty
Not letting me forget the creator’s wisdom
He heals and wounds, patches and breaks

As a star explodes and lights up the night
And all of it’s fireworks are freezing in the air
In letters of fire it writes the song for you in the sky
Because at the end of the day
Even it falls at your feet

Happy Birthday Shmerson!

2 Sep

My husband turns 29 today.

We went out to our favorite restaurant and toasted – wishing that this time next year, we’ll have another birth to celebrate. He toasted and wished us happiness.

I told him that the truth is – despite everything we’ve been through in the last year – we already are happy.

He agreed.

Happy Birthday Shmerson! You is my love!!!!

You told me tonight that you can’t believe you’re 29. That you still feel like a kid most of the time. It’s that part of you that makes me laugh, and reminds me that life doesn’t always have to be so serious. So don’t stop, ok? I love you.

Happy Birthday Squish!!!!!!

12 Apr

To an amazing woman.

An amazing friend.

One of the strongest people I know.

I know I give you hell sometimes.

I know I’m no picnic.

And I don’t tell you often enough just how amazing you are and how important you are to me.

You have literally saved my life more times than you know.

I know you feel bad sometimes that you don’t “understand”.

But your listening makes everything easier.

I hope I am as good a friend to you as you are to me. And if I’m not, please tell me so I can try to do better.

You’re beautiful, talented, strong, and funny as all hell. I hope this year brings you everything that you wish for, and everything that you deserve – which, in case you were wondering, is far and above what you wish for.

I wish you all the happiness in the world.

I love you Squish!

Happy Birthday!

If there was a maid of honor, it would have been you. Happy Birthday my Squisher!

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