My Birthday is Not Just My Day

Since the clock struck midnight, I have been inundated with texts and Facebook notifications all saying happy birthday. It is so nice to receive such ample dosages of love and appreciation in such a short period of time, but I cannot help but feel as though this day doesn't entirely belong to me.

22 years ago, a frightened couple stood in a Boston delivery room with an array of doctors in their midst. They were so petrified, and they didn't know what was going to happen. According to my parents, there was approximately 20 doctors scrambling about in that nippy, minute delivery room. My parents knew what the doctors had told them from the ultrasound: that there was a massive hermangioma and I could bleed to death at birth.

I can't imagine the anxiety in which my parents must have felt; how does one prepare for such a situation? You can't, all you can do is reach for something solid and hold on tight and pray like hell. They must have been so incredibly frightened, and felt so helpless, so helpless to not be able to fix their new baby. It must have been the most agonizing feeling in the world, to standby and feel so powerless...and yet they got through it. Not only did they get through it, but they got me through it and by that I mean life.

Here I am at 22, living life one day at a time. I would have never made it to this point without them. So really, this day is just as much a testament to them and their perseverance/love as it is to my existence.

Thank you to my wonderful parents and for all the lovely wishes. - Arianna