Just celebrated my birthday yesterday. I was born 42 years ago to my parents.  As far as I know, they wanted a girl and there I was. My mother was thrilled that she finally got her girl. That was as far as her excitement went.  I wondered what went through her mind when she first set eyes on me. I know that I was not born with the sought after features. She had wished my eyes were a little rounder and my nose with a higher bridge. I guess I wasn't quite as pretty as she had hoped. She spent years rubbing my eyes hoping that the upper lid would stay in place giving an illusion of a bigger and rounder eyes. Other times she would pinch my nose hoping to create a higher bridge. None of the methods worked. She did say that I  was a good baby. One time when I was sick, I slept to a point that she thought I was dead. She was worried. She didn't want me dead yet, I guess. I don't really know what was her intention of having me. I don't believe that she loved me My best guess would be, if I was dead, it would make her look bad. 

But what I do know is that,  when I had my son three years ago I didn't know what to expect. I certainly didn't view him as an extension of me. I just wanted to get to know him for who he is. To me, he is not here to make me look good. He is not here to fulfill my dreams. I can't put that burden on him for I lived with that burden all my life. 42 years has gone by and I guess I have failed miserably in fulfilling my mother's dream but I have done a great job in fulfilling mine.

Yesterday was a quiet day for me. A friend brought me a cake and we had a small celebration. I opened cards and listened to my music on the way to work. I was bombarded with birthday greetings on facebook and a few friends even said "I love you." I guess I did ok. This is yet the best time of my life.