Aleah- I still rejoice in my heart when I think on this day that you came into the world. Given the choice I would do it all again because all the pain and sorrow were worth getting to meet you for 59 sweet minutes. I image that heaven is throwing you the biggest birthday party ever. Know that your parents' hearts rejoice for you. One year ago today I held you in my arms and said goodbye. And my heart yearns for the day when I will hold you once more but never have to let go. This story is for you baby girl. All my love!
March twenty-third. It was her first birthday. I had been anticipating this day since the day she came in the world, a tiny pink bundle of newness and life. Each month since her birth on the twenty-third day of each month, I wrote her a letter. I wrote to her in the hopes that someday she would read the love I had for her when she was just a small helpless infant. Maybe if she read the letters she might be semi cognizant and appreciative of all the sacrifices that had and would be made on her behalf.
My whole life changed the second she entered the world. All the agonizing pain of childbirth became lost to me the instant she was placed in my eager arms. For the past year, I spent hours studying the beauty and miraculous handiwork of her little body. I thought in wonder, all that she is now was once only a few cells no bigger than a period in a sentence. Just looking at her face made my abounding Mother’s love overflow into the nooks and crannies of my soul. She infiltrated and ruled my thoughts constantly.
And now the day of celebration and remembrance was upon me. I planned a party for her, as all loving mothers are inclined to do. Even at the age of one, she already had friends and companions. They of course neither spoke with words that I could overhear; however, no one who saw them ever doubted the sacred bond they shared. Adriana had been born a year earlier than she had and Bradyn three months after her. These children would be at the party, to celebrate her life.
I break my trance of starring out the window at the glistening March snow and grab my recipe book. I say to my baby, “I hope you like confetti cake, Little Bear.” There is really no way to know what kind of cake she would prefer but I figure any child would like cake with rainbow colors inside. “Should I make your frosting pink or purple?” I ask, and my little girl gives me a long silence in response. I decide to go with pink because it matches her birthday outfit.
Once I finished baking her cake, I load all the birthday party supplies into the station wagon I vowed I would never own. On the way out to the car, I see the Kleenex box sitting on the corner of my coffee table. I pause and pluck several fresh tissues from the box and stick them in my coat pocket. It’s her first birthday; of course I am going to cry, I reason to myself.
When I arrive at the party destination, the cool March air pricks my cheeks as I walk down the gravel walkway at the park. I never thought I would be having an outdoor birthday party for my daughter in the middle of March, yet on I stride. I see her little friends in the distance. A knowing smile comes to my lips; they would not miss her birthday for the world. The thought brings color to my cheeks and strength to my shivering legs to continue on.
I have brought balloons and my Little Bear’s birthday gift. For a long while, I had agonized over what to get her for this special day. I finally decided to write her another letter and to promise to write her a letter on every birthday till my dying day. Maybe someday she will appreciate the effort I hope in my mother’s heart.
All the children at the party look to me, and I realize I must be the one to begin the song. I breathe in deep. Cold frosted air fills my lungs, and I begin singing Happy Birthday to You. My breath catches and my voice falters when I sing her name. Aleah.
The silence is deafening as I sing to my child’s grave. I see the reflection of tears streaming down my face on her granite stone. I feel utterly alone in this place of broken dreams. But then I look at Adriana and Bradyn’s graves placed on both sides of Aleah’s and know that their parents have sung and will sing birthday songs in this desolate grave yard too.
I attach the letter written to my little daughter to the balloons that I brought her. I pull out her picture from my pocket. I stare again for the thousandth time at the twelve inch, one pound two ounce child that enraptured my heart the moment I held her. My eyes drink in her pink outfit, always the same never changing. Even though I bought dozens of other outfits in preparation for her birth, they will lie untouched in her vacant nursery.
With a brave smile on my lips and fresh tears in my eyes, I release the balloon to the heavens where she now resides. I bring both hands to my lips and blow her the biggest kiss I can physically muster and whisper, “Happy birthday Little Bear. Mama loves you.”
