Last Sunday was Mother’s Day — and my daughter’s 3rd birthday.
Around this time last year, a few days before her second birthday, my husband and I had just learned that the cancer was found in my lymph nodes, following a lumpectomy and sentinel node biopsy.
We were stunned, terrified, practically catatonic. We decided not to share the news with anyone until after Georgia’s birthday, but everyone knew something was up. We really wanted things to be “normal” for Georgia, but we weren’t up to planning a big birthday party, so we thought we would just have a few kids around for cake.
That’s when our friends, and Georgia’s godfather in particular, stepped in and took matters into their own hands: they rallied together and threw a magical surprise birthday party for Georgia in our backyard. Decorations, balloons, cupcakes… Our family and friends all around us… It was beautiful. I’ll never forget the kindness of that gesture; it was a miracle I made it through the day without constantly bursting into tears.
So, this year in the weeks leading up to Georgia’s party all I could think of was how lucky I am to be here, with my health returning, through the worst of treatment. How lucky I am to be healthy enough to plan my daughter’s party. In fact, I was so into it that my husband accused me of being even more excited than Georgia… I don’t know, can anyone be more excited than a toddler on her birthday?
Possibly. It was a great day. Georgia was off-the-charts happy — and I can’t remember the last time I felt so grateful to be alive. Happiest Mother’s Day ever.