Friday 13th – my original birthday and my birthday today.

Says it all you might think.

Original birthday – an unwanted baby already destined for children’s homes and “farming out” as a school peer once described my adoption.

Then lots of lovely birthdays with my adoptive Mum and Dad.  I was with them just in time for my 1st birthday and I imagine they went totally over the top because they saw me as very special.

An amazing 18th – a tape mixed by the DJ brother of a good friend.  Wish I could find her on social networks.  I would like to know that life treated her well.  A big pink teddy bear, a pub crawl and an Ode to Kate written by another friend’s sister.  Happy times.

A brilliant 21st in that wonderful place that is Trinity Hall, Cambridge University.  A place that wanted me and accepted me in all senses of the word.  Posh drinks party followed by a sweaty bop.  A sign on my door saying “Cambridge students head to the best party ever” from my lovely friend Chris.  I miss him.  Back to my room in the early hours.  Waking up the next day to find my dress dropped on the floor where I must have crashed at some point.  Midnight blue and encrusted with jewels and a bustle on the back.  Those were the days. My school friend H came along for it.  We don’t see each other any more.   A wok from the boy I adored which I kept for years and years.  Gold and silver balloons put up by my friend.  Pink champagne crate delivered to college from my brother.

The real 21st back home with my friend Rachel going round charity jobs and giggling in that way that you do when you are young and daft and life seems full of hope.

A joint birthday with my landlord in my early twenties drinking Castlemaine 4x and listening to Queen into the early hours of the morning.  Happy Birthday Ian wherever you are.

Waking up in my mid-twenties with my then boyfriend and him delivering one present after another from the drawer under the bed.  Seeing me as a woman – jewels and the like.  It turned out he was a cheat but he did romance well.

Birthdays in recent years with my Dad coming in and singing.  A present that would be just right because he would have actively found out what I would like best of all.  Miss you Dad – you knew how to love.

Today –  a wife and mother.  No cards or presents from my husband or children.  No singing, no cake, no nothing.  A tearful birthday.

I hope you can see from some of the former birthdays that I once did matter.

I wish I still did.

And yes, I know I should be a big brave girl and accept things more but right now I feel undervalued and mildly miffed (understatement)

Happy Birthday to Me!  It’s a dirty job but someone has to give me a nice day and it looks like that is down to me.