I wrote this, again, in my personal journal as I started to come down from the high of last night’s performance. The concert went well. I have another show this afternoon for which the nerves have already set in even though I logically know everything will be fine. All the same, I’m nervous.

I think I did a wise thing, really, planning to perform on [Munchkin's] birthday. I wasn’t sure going into it. I didn’t quite know how I would react to certain songs or memories in general. The truth? And I hope this isn’t taken the wrong way but I’m sure other performers will understand.

Performing, on a stage, requires full concentration. I had to think about words, notes and choreography. My mind, body and, in essence, spirit were totally dedicated to one thing and one thing only: getting through the concert without mishap. I will report that I only messed up on one word in which I got ahead of myself in the song. Other than that, I hit the right moves at the right times and the right notes at the right time and, really, it was all very thrilling.

I forgot how much I missed being on stage. That applause? It’s addicting. It was a drug to me back in the day and having a taste of it this evening was intoxicating. I smiled my little face off and for two hours of what is normally the hardest day of the year for me, things were absolutely perfect. My husband gave me a big kiss and told me that he was proud of me, followed shortly behind by both of my parents. Life is good, I do admit.

I will admit, as the high from the show is wearing off, reality is setting back in over this cup of tea. And a bit of guilt, as well. Were those two hours that I spent concentrating on music misspent? Should my every thought have been directed toward her today? Was this the wrong thing to do? Should I not be a part of this group so that I might travel to see [the Munchkin] on her birthday each year? Or do I continue to pursue my dreams so that she may one day be proud of me? Where are the lines in the sand and what do I do when a wave washes the line away, leaving me questioning on which side I stand?

I’m getting far too deep for the hour.

All the same, I enjoyed purchasing cupcakes and celebrating my daughter’s birthday with my husband and sons today. I’ve still listened to some emotional songs but don’t necessarily feel lead to quote them just now. I’ve had some tears, I do admit, because I am not a cold, heartless freak of nature. I miss my daughter but, somehow, I’ve still found room to celebrate her. And, at the same time, live my life.

I am somewhat impressed with myself in general, if I’m allowed to toot my own horn for a moment. The healing I have done this year is just shocking to me. Prior to this moment, I don’t think I had fully realized how much healing has been done this year. Related but different, I am proud of myself for stepping out of my comfort zone and auditioning and then continuing to stay in this chorale. The me of a year or two ago never would have done such a thing. It’s all very confusing and encouraging. Who is this woman I am becoming?

I quite like her.

I do, to be honest, like myself as of late. I feel stronger than, well, really, ever. I have this confidence I did not previously have; not a conceit, mind you, but I feel able to hold my head high once again. I mean, I’m still going to avoid eye contact with strangers in public places because that’s just who I am but I’ll feel good doing it.

I have a busy day ahead of me but I really just wanted to share this as, once again, my writing has been doing itself lately. I haven’t had much control over the flying of my fingers across the keyboard and, well, I quite like the results as of late. But more on that later. Today is not a Writer Me day. Today is a Singer Me day.

And I missed this me.

I’m not feeling as eloquent today.

Today is a day always filled with memories. Today is a day that I can see newborn Munchkin with such clarity it is as if I have just given birth to her and she is simply down the hall being tended to by the nursing staff. Today is her birthday, of course. And while I always love my daughter, it is today that I am always overwhelmed with that love.

It fills me, fully, today. That love. That deep, to-the-core kind of love that mothers should and often do have for their children. I was once told that mothers who have relinquished a child should never love that placed child as much as they love their parented children. I thought that to be silly at the time. And on birthdays I am reminded that it simply isn’t the case for me.

I love her as much as I love the two boys that crawl all over me on a daily basis. I would give my life to save her own, just as I would do for these two brothers. I would move mountains for any last one of them… if only I could. Obviously, as any parent will, or rather, should admit to, I love them each in their own way. They bring different things to the table with their own unique perspectives, personalities and stories and I love them each in and for their very own ways.

I miss her, of course. I tried calling earlier this morning but didn’t catch anyone. I likely won’t get to wish her a happy birthday on the phone as I will be leaving the house in about three hours to go get ready for my Christmas concert. My heart feels heavy at that thought; knowing I can’t be with her on this beautiful day and knowing that I might not even get to hear her voice. All the same, I don’t think I could send more love across the miles between us if I tried.

I love you, Munchkin. May your birthday be everything you ever dreamed it would be, just as you have been everything I never imagined you could be to me. Happy Birthday.