Thank you so much for the feedback and input about the themes in my book, “Surviving Sue” . I promised I’d provide a peek, once a week, into the book, one tidbit at a time. This week? I’ve got birthdays on my mind and for a good reason. I’ll explain.
When I met my husband, he remarked about the “coincidence” of sharing a birthday with my mom, Sue. I suppose in some families that might’ve been the impetus for joyous, tandem celebrations, year after year – how serendipitous to have mother and daughter born on the same day. My birthdate? No magic moments there, no messages from the universe destined to bond mother and daughter – together forever. Even though I didn’t know it for years, I was a planned “C” section birth. Sue chose my birthday on her birthday – on purpose.
Sue had a week of leeway about which date to pick and she lacked the foresight to think about the implications of her doubling up decision. She was a young, scared mother – with a tiny, special needs daughter (my sister, Lisa) whose disabilities were only then being fully accounted for. As Sue was preparing to welcome daughter #2 – me – it was an easy choice to just pick her own birthday which was within the one-week window she was given. We’d ‘twin’ forever, she thought. Except she was confronted with ample, angry input from my father and her sisters that it was a terrible idea. They hated her decision, but she was defiant and dug in, causing a rift between she and one of my aunts for a long time.
I didn’t know the truth for years because the shame that Sue felt about intentionally welcoming me into the world on her birthday became cloaked in a lie. No truth was revealed about the scheduled c-section. I was a miracle, she said – born on her birthday as a gift.
When I was in my twenties, I learned the truth in a hurtful way. Sue kept the secret for two decades and unleashed the birthday bombshell in a tirade that left me confused. So, I did what I often did back then. I swallowed my feelings about the blow up and moved on, celebrating the subsequent joint birthdays in a fear cloud – knowing that asking questions about her lie would be like lighting a fuse.
When she finally shared the truth, it was less confessional and more intent-to-harm, because she was drunk and her goal was to sting me with a hurtful little nugget. It worked. And it wasn’t the first or last time I learned she twisted the truth for her own benefit.
Surviving Sue – p. 14
Years later, I navigated through the confusion as I learned about the healing power of restorative writing. Unpacking Sue’s motivations helped me understand her decision-making and helped me make peace with the pockets of pain.
When my dear, future hubster learned there was no coincidence – but loads of intent to have my birthday forever tied to Sue’s – he was sad and angry. At that point he didn’t know much about the complicated back stories (the birthday lie was a minor transgression, all things considered) but he was affected. Stunned. In many ways, my sweet hubster was one of the many kind souls who stepped forward, looking out for me in ways small and extra-large to provide support and love, countering Sue’s impact.
Hubster’s solution – one that Sue thought was highly indulgent and unnecessary – was his loving, redemptive attempt to provide ‘queen for a day’ moments to make up for the fact that I’d never had a birthday of my very own. Thus began the tradition of celebrating my ½ birthday every year, as he proclaimed June 3 as “Vicki’s Special Day”. For added emphasis, he also proposed to me on June 3 and oh my gosh…let me count…yep…for 43 years…we’ve celebrated the day he proposed and my ½ year birthday every year, on June 3, since 1980.
This year’s celebration cake? It’s the yummy confection snipped in below. A strawberry shortcake unlike any I’ve ever had.
In the almost eight years since Sue passed, I continue to think about her on our actual birthday, of course, but remember her just as much on my “special day”. Her decades of regret about not giving me my own birthday needn’t have been a burden for her to carry. If she’d told the truth, I’m not sure it would’ve mattered much to “Little Vicki” (or the grown up me, now). The more troublesome bit? Her long-term commitment to toting around a whopper of a lie.
Writing about Sue…yes, “Surviving Sue” has been a blessing, a reminder that parents are people – sometimes flawed beings doing their best. Looking back and understanding nuances in my mom’s life makes the background noise about my birthday less consequential.
Vicki ❤
Victoria Ponders 
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