The true heros of Birthdays

Tomorrow I turn 35 years old.  As much as I love Birthdays (and believe me, I do) ever since becoming a mom I can't help but think about my mom every time my birthday comes up.  When I was a child I remember waking up on my Birthday only to have my mom standing over me, wishing me many happy wishes from the get go.  She has always made me feel special, but even more so when Birthday's approach.  As a mother myself,  I too get giddy at the upcoming birthdays of my children, I recall to myself over and over what it was like those last uncomfortable weeks and days, the anticipation and joy as we welcomed each of our children into this world. 
   When it comes to my own Birthday, I now can't help but be overcome with gratitude for my mom.  At 2 1/2 weeks overdue (when my older two siblings were each two weeks early) and weighing in at 9 lbs, the largest of all my mom' babies) my mom was definitely ready for my birth.  Every day for over a month she must have been anticipating the upcoming event, but to no avail until finally on one mid January day in 1983, I made my entrance.  Giving birth to a child is so miraculous and yet so painstakingly hard.  First you carry them for nine months, facing both physical sickness and mental struggles,  random ailments attacking from all sides, as well as expectations, fears, and exhaustion, just a few of the feelings that can overwhelm you as you're faced with the onslaught of pregnancy hormones. Giving birth however is just the beginning, you now have to raise the child.  The next five years come down with a sort of boot camp intensity, strengthening your long suffering while seemingly attempting to flush out all of your weaknesses at once.  After the young years come the slightly less physically demanding, yet even more daunting task of raising these pre-teeens and then teenagers into the kind of adults we want to have relationship with.  I have not yet gotten to the phase, but as I watch friends go through it and remember my own childhood, I know it's not easy. My parents both did a great job in this area (parenting,) my hat is off to you, Mom and Dad.
    On Birthdays we celebrate people as though they did something amazing on this day, when really all the hard work was done by someone else, and they simply did what they could not keep from doing if they tried. They were born.  Having both been born and given birth (four times,) I assure you, being born is the much easier feat.
       All my life people have commented on how much I am like my mother, in both appearance and personality.  When this has been told in both of our hearing my mom's often response has been something to the effect of "Michelle is my one child that's like me, though she hates that."  I sit there awkwardly, not saying anything.  I honestly can't remember what I thought of those comments as a child, but as an adult I know that my silence has long been misunderstood by her.  It is not at all that I would not want to look like/act like her, but rather from disbelief.  I know and believe that we have similarities, but she is one of the most active, vibrant, caring, generous, beautiful and kind people I know.  She loves relentlessly, serves Jesus unfailingly and pours herself out endlessly to family, friends, and strangers alike.  If I, in anyway resemble her in either form or spirit, I am humbled and thankful.   So on this day that she went into labor and later gave birth 36 years ago, I am exceedingly grateful to you Mom, and will always be proud to be your child.  Thank you for your sacrifice.  And Dad, I know you were there too, and though different your sacrifices were different, they have been no less. Thank you.