Spring is full of birthdays in our family. All six of my children were born in January, February and March. I got a boy and a girl in each month. It wasn't planned, but turned out that way, and wasn't really discovered until the last son was born. The oldest boy and girl were born in March. The middle boy and girl were born in January, and the youngest boy and girl were born in February.
Those gray months after Christmas were always pretty dismal with the let-down of Christmas and New Year's. But the spring birthdays helped to usher in a hope of a happier brighter season. They colored the gray days with bright birthday balloons, candles and cakes. My birthday heralded the coming of Christmas, arriving the first of December. And my husband's May birthday finished the Birthday season and ushered us into Summer.
It wasn't until the oldest married that we got an April baby, our daughter-in-law.
Then along came grandchildren: March, February, February, June, December, March, May and March. The other in-law children's birthdays like mine, didn't really match the pattern; August, October, and November. But they are welcomed celebrations like all the rest.
Birthdays are special days to me, and always have been. They honor the one person who finally came after months of anticipation. The fanfare was just in one hospital room with a father and mother surrounding this precious new baby, fresh from Heaven. Not too many others, except of course, the family and possibly neighbors really were affected much by this tiny baby. Now years later, this person has grown up, turned into a sweet and special addition to a family, perhaps in-laws, and are now greeting their own sweet babies.
We celebrated a birthday last Saturday, a precious little boy who turned 1 today. A grandchild. He has no idea why suddenly strangers showed up, filled his house, brought presents, ate a really pretty cake and made a party of what seemed to start out like any other day, but he liked it I am sure, as did all his adoring fans who came to help celebrate.