“Last week the candle factory burned down. Everyone just stood around and sang Happy Birthday.” ~Stephen Wright

Pearlsky’s due date was October 22, my birthday. What a present that would have been. Seventeen years ago today, the doctor decided something was up and wanted her out. We induced, she was born the 21st. Ever since then, I have lost my birthday. For her first birthday party, she got an expensive, and wonderful, chocolate cake. The next day I got a low-fat lemon cupcake.

Every year we had a party for both of us, and it turns out, several others close to us with birthdays this week. Always a nice gathering and fun. “Birthdays are when we say ‘thank you for being here’ and ‘we love you'” is what I tell her.

Every year, except last year. I just did not want to deal with it. We quietly slipped away and went to my parents for the weekend, no party, just a bit of a recognition. Most people thought I was avoiding my 50th, and were not happy that we were not celebrating her Sweet 16, but that was not it at all. I had no problem with the numbers, per se. I was not happy.

Only one person got it, of course a parent of a severely disabled child. In an unsolicited email, she of the unlocked secret voice, Kelly, wrote and said,

You feel like you are both at the halfway point, no?

Happy Birthday, Pearlsky, I love you and am thrilled that you are here.


  1. By Claire


  2. By Kelly


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