happy birthday

Yesterday was my birthday.  I am 36 years old.  

I feel much, much younger than 36; I feel like I have eons left to live.  

I also feel far older.  I have lived through shit that most of my ancestors never experienced.  I am fucking ancient.

It's weird to be in this place and to be celebrating.  I did celebrate.  It was fun.  I received so many well wishes, which was also strange.  It seems terribly out of place to have people smiling at me and telling me "Happy Birthday!" when I'm living through what is undoubtedly the worst time in my life.  

But, always the attention whore, I liked it.  People were correct in assuming that I would want to find happiness on my birthday despite the tragedy of losing Nina-Lou.  I didn't feel guilty about it, like I might have a month ago.  I drank wine outdoors.  I skated in the park.  I laughed with friends.  I got sunburned.  I stuffed my face.  I indulged in expensive lattes and fancy chocolate.  All of this was truly GOOD.  

She was there, or rather the void she left behind her was there.  I missed her so much.  I had really looked forward to this first birthday as a mom.  I had planned on hosting a picnic, and inviting everyone I knew to come celebrate with us.  Bring your kids, bring your dogs, bring everyone.  Let's be grown up mom-women and enjoy ourselves and bask in the wonder and joy of our new lives.  

Things didn't turn out the way I had imagined.  It still takes me by surprise.  I still sometimes can't believe that we had a baby, that we ALL built this beautiful, welcoming space for her in our lives, and she died.  I can't believe she died.  

Turner took me to my favorite Ethiopian restaurant in Berkeley on Sunday night, the night before my actual birthday.  The food was great.  I enjoyed Turner's company immensely.  As we drove home, the sun had recently set, and the sky was a steely blue that reflected on the bay, and the lights of San Francisco twinkled in the distance, and the moon rose up full and yellow behind us as we crossed the Bay Bridge, and it was a beautiful night, and my heart broke all over again, like it does again and again every day since she died.  I didn't cry.  I am used to the feeling by now.  I'm a lot tougher than I used to be.  Or, at least tougher than I had to be.  I don't want any of this.  The universe takes what it will.  I am tiny, powerless, insignificant.

Here's to many, many more birthdays to come.  Birthdays better than this one.  I believe they exist.  

Here's to Nina, and all the other babies who died before they should have.

I miss Nina-Louise.  

I miss my old life.  

We are trying hard.  

We are doing ok.  

We are strong.

We are a mess.    

Cheers.