My mom just wished me a happy birthday and said she recalls vividly the days of June 19th and 20th -- way back in 1970. She remembers June 19th because she was admitted to the hospital on this day and June 20th because this was the day she gave birth to me. Her own birthday is just two days from now -- but it is my birthday that is more memorable, more joyous, more etched in her mind. And so it is not my birthday -- today -- that evokes emotion in me or makes me feel nostalgic about the day a life was born. The days my own two babies were born -- January 3 and May 30 -- are the birthdays that are most powerful for me. These are the days when I personally pushed two big boys into the world -- and for me, that is a cause for a celebration.

I will still celebrate my birthday today -- with a day spent with my boys, a dinner out with my husband, perhaps some gifts, and the thrill of knowing I've lived to the age of 36 after a breast cancer diagnosis at age 34. So it will be a happy day for sure. And I am thankful to my mom for pushing me into the world so I can know the true pleasure of birthdays that are not my own.