We are decorating the house for the birthday party. With my two girls, I’ve done seven parties, and the formula is nearly the same every time. Balloons, blown up by me and tied and taped to the ceiling in bunches, no matter what house we’ve been in. Streamers from corner to corner. Then comes the cake. A different one every year. A butterfly banana cake for Claire’s first birthday, a safari diorama for her second, a pink strawberry for her third, a round (!) chocolate cake with pink roses for her fourth.
For Anna, the first year was a cupcake caterpillar, as she skootched rather than crawled. For her second it was a beach scene, blue icing and whales, penguins in floating candy rings. This year, Claire’s fifth birthday, it will be a dinosaur. Well, that’s the plan. Sometimes a cake takes two tries, which would be a shame, if you were the kind of person who didn’t want extra cake around the house. Fortunately, we’re not that kind of household.
This year is our first drop-off party. Five party guests, Claire’s invitees, dropped off at the door by parents who flee. Except for our oldest closest friends, four-year-old Josh and his mom, who is happy for a distraction as she awaits the results of her latest IVF. Her third try to have a second child, at age 50. She’d lucked out conceiving Josh with her own eggs and a sperm donor at 45, but now she’s moved on to donor eggs and the last vial of Josh’s sperm donor, hoping for a biological connection between her children. Only one embryo was transferred – she’s going slowly and thinking hard at every step. Well aware that many will disapprove, she’s told almost no one of her attempts to conceive but fellow single mothers by choice.
We’re a non-judgmental lot, having gone through our own journeys to have children in unconventional ways. None of us are stupid, my friend least of all. We all know 50 is old to be the mother of a newborn and kindergartener. We all worry about fatigue and health, and leaving children without a mother too early in life. The only thing my friend is sure about is that Josh would be better with a sister or brother, a bigger family to support him when the need arises.
So Claire’s fifth birthday party will be a celebration for our family, a busy two hours of dinosaur-themed fun, and a chance for my friend to think of something else for a little while. By the time the thank-you cards are written and sent in a week or two, she’ll know whether she is pregnant, whether Claire’s party next year will be attended by Josh and a new baby brother or sister, or just Josh and his mom. Best wishes to all the birthday girls out there, and to those in that dreadful, hopeful, impossibly long two-week wait.