Happy Birthday to Me

Sunday, June 8th, was the 55th anniversary of my birth. I celebrated this miraculous, much anticipated event, on June 6th, 7th, and 8th. By Monday, June 9th, I was exhausted and spent the day horizontally fixated on a steady stream of rain.

My celebration took place without cake, balloons, or a "Happy Birthday" song. For these are NOT some of my favorite things. Instead, there was a plethora of ponies, free flowing dresses, champagne, and oversized straw hats centered around a much anticipated polo match. And most important to me, there was an abundance of laughter and well wishes from good friends.

These friends included two people I have known since kindergarten – Monkey Gurl and Husband #3. As you all know, #3 had been missing in action since our separation in September of last year.

A reunion seemed impossible. With the help of my close circle of friends, I settled into my new, single life and #3 moved on without me. A cancer-free woman was waiting in the wings. A woman with real breasts, eager hands, and eyes fixated on a man whose heart was clearly broken.

To me, love hurt more than cancer.

And then it happened... a BOLT so fierce that it broke me open.

I was in Baltimore undergoing preoperative testing prior to my reversal surgery when an enlarged pelvic lymph node was detected and a PET/CT scan was ordered to rule out the suspicion of a local reoccurrence of cancer.

"Local reoccurrence" would mean stage 4, terminal, chemo for the rest of my painful, miserable life.

"I'll be dead in a year" was all I could hear. People would talk about everything and nothing and all I could think of was, "I'll be dead in a year, what do I care."

In the depth of my despair, clarity seeped in.

What I knew to be true was that I loved my husband and he loved me. It didn’t matter who was right or who was wrong. I was tired of punishing him. It didn't matter how much pain we caused each other or how we tried to extinguish it. I didn't have time to waste on anger, jealousy or bitterness. I only had time for joy.

And so, I waited for my test results with my husband in the shadows. I cheered my cancer reprieve with my husband at close range. And I celebrated my 55th birthday with my husband by my side.

Because I live my life out loud, (which often includes heart wrenching tears), I have received a LOT of well-intentioned criticism regarding our reunion. And I get it. But my job is not to please others. My job is to be true to myself.

My birthday was divine!

Early that morning, a happy chirp from a text alert prompted me to open my eyes and the first thing I saw was the time.  It was 7:27.

27's are all about Kerry.

That same morning, I stepped into the day and found a perfectly formed pink rose bursting from a bush outside my door. It was the first bloom of the season and I knew it was for me.

When we arrived at polo, I was greeted by a handsome man who asked, "Aren't you Kerry Magann's mother?" It was the catcher from Kerry's high school baseball team. He was a badass then and now, almost 20 years later, carried a diaper bag and a sweet baby girl who would NOT stop smiling.

I cannot tell you how good it felt to hear my son's name. To know that he is not forgotten is the best gift imaginable.

Love, real love, never dies. And so, I celebrate it.

"Oh no, the ladies getting arrested. How will I get home," worries Sasha.

 #3, Monkey Gurl, Sasha and at the line, little Miss Lucy (she's hard to see)

Monkey Gurl and Monkey ME

Where is Sasha?

Typical Bernese "Berner" behavior

xo, MonkeyME