Macy's Bittersweet Sweet 16

I’m sick today. The day before my middle child would have turned sixteen. A bittersweet 16.

And, I’ve been pouting and cranky this week because there’s too much going on during her birthday weekend. And I don’t know how I want to celebrate her/grieve her. My husband has been gracious, as always.

Celebrate? You might think I’ve written the wrong word. But we DO celebrate our sweet Macy’s birthday every year. We have a birthday cake (or scones this year) and we buy balloons and we take the day off work and school if her birthday lands on a weekday. We used to go to Disneyland or Universal Studios and several years we went for the weekend to Mission Bay, our happy place.

We haven’t gone away the last several years, as Macy’s birthday coincides with Winter Formal. And, like with all siblings, we have to juggle our weekends.

My eldest flew home from college for the weekend. I told her she didn’t have to, depending on her midterms. She said it was okay—her one midterm is on Friday—though it turns out she has two this week. And I wondered why she flew home, even as I was happy she did it. Yes, she misses us, well, mostly the cats.

But it just hit me why she flew home—of course she flew home. Even though I had an amazing amount of support from my family and friends during my pregnancy and Macy’s birth and death, and even though my husband was there by my side, my eldest child was the one who was with me every single day during my pregnancy and grief. Every step of the way. She was two. She has always been an old soul—so you can’t compare her to other two year olds. She knew what was going on and held my hand, my belly, my heart every step of the way.

After Macy died, there were a lot of tears and downtime. I was a hands-on mom joining playdates, going to story time and reading to her, going to Gymboree and the park, doing arts and crafts—and suddenly she was allowed to watch three whole Backyardigan episodes in a row while I read next to her. We got through the first few months with Backyardigans and Twilight and a whole army of people feeding us and checking in on us.

I have never felt more loved.

But this week—this week, I wanted to grieve. I am grieving. You can tell me it’s been sixteen years, but the death of your child is something you don’t really get over. So today, right now, I’m crying. Tomorrow—tomorrow, we celebrate.

Dr Bookworm and Mini Me on what would have been Macy’s 5th birthday

Dr Bookworm with her husband, Mini Me, and Macy