Happy Birthday to Me - Sort of

As I mentioned in my previous post, I parent two children that my husband and I adopted.  Their early lives were not easy, and sometimes I get a glimpse into their lives.

I didn't have the greatest childhood and my relationship with my family is strained at best.  My birthday was last week.  I didn't have many birthday parties as a child and when you live with traumatized children, having birthday parties can be a dangerous thing.  I'll explain that in future posts.

Anyway, something happened the night before my birthday that had me thinking about the day I was born.  I realized that there were very few people that were excited about my birth.  My mother turned 17 two months before I was born.  She didn't want a child, but it was a way out of an abusive home...hence, my conception.  She was not excited to be a mother. It was  means to an end.  My father was excited, from what I have been told. I know my grandfather welcomed my birth. I was the first biological grandchild.  Aside from that, I doubt there was anyone who was excited.

I have several friends who are pregnant, or have recently had babies.  These are children who are wanted and loved.  There were or will be people who rejoice as these little ones enter the world.  Not so in my case, and probably not in the case of my children either.

All of the kids that I have parented (there were two that lived with us that we were unable to keep - unfortunately) were born to unmarried parents and were not the first children.  They were removed for various reasons of abuse/neglect.  These are not circumstances that would make you presume someone rejoiced about their birth.

It's sad that a child's birth should ever not be celebrated.  They are a gift from God.

Note:  The baby picture is not me. It's the beautiful daughter of a friend of mine.  She IS loved, cared for and her birth was very much celebrated.