Saturday we celebrated my daughter's sixth birthday and my son's eighth, though really that was Gabe's second celebration. I on the other hand was at home in bed sick with a nasty flu. The bug always seems to bite at the most inopportune times. Needless to say, I was disappointed that I was missing out on the celebration and time with my family and friends.
Once everyone came home and I had finally awoke from my 6-hour "nap", my husband was getting sick. Long story short, it was one restless night at our house.
Three in the morning my daughter, Mary, the birthday girl wakes up. I am in her bed trying to get her back to sleep. I look at the clock and mention how I wasn't quite yet in labor with her six years earlier. That led into a detailed recollection of her labor and delivery. Mary wanted to know every bit. Then she asked me to tell her how my oldest almost died during his delivery and my youngest son's eventful birth.
In those minutes as I whispered the stories it made me realize that at that moment I was a part of a far-more precious celebration of her birthday than a balloon-filled room. Yes, I missed my loved ones that day. But, I celebrated with my daughter the great gift she is from God- just the three of us.