I struggled to celebrate my birthday without my late daughter

The first year after losing a loved one is filled with many firsts. I anticipated many of these moments being hard after Austen, my 9-year-old daughter, passed away last summer due to complications of Dravet syndrome. I was prepared for Halloween, Christmas, and her birthday to rip the wound of losing her back open. They were all holidays she loved, and spending them without her would be bittersweet.

The pain of other holidays, however, I wasn’t prepared for.

Three months after Austen passed away, Grace, my bonus daughter, turned 9 as well. It was hard not having her sister beside her for this celebration. Austen was very proud to be the big sister of the two, even though Grace often found herself in the big sister role.

My son, Atlas, celebrated his 11th birthday a month later, and it hit me just as hard. I try to be happy for my other children, to be there for them as much or more than I was when Austen was here. But with her gone, it feels like there’s this hole in our family that will never be filled again — a gaping, Austen-sized wound that we all share.

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Earlier this month, I celebrated my first birthday without my girl. I cried all week leading up to it, brushed off comments about it, and asked everyone to please ignore it. I didn’t want to celebrate my birthday without Austen. All I could think was that she should be climbing into bed with me for a cuddle, giggling and saying, “Happy birthday, Mama! Do you want a hug and a kiss?” But I know I’ll never hear her say those words again on this side of heaven.

I made it through my birthday, with a lot of tears and even more help from my husband and family.

My heart is still heavy, though. Later this month, Austen’s dog and best friend, Milo, will turn 10, and our cat Loki’s 10th birthday is in April. Finally, Austen’s birthday — when she should have turned 10 — falls in May. The three dates were stacked one after the other, and Austen made sure we celebrated each of them every year. Seeing the animals turn 10, and knowing Austen will never reach that age, will be a hard pill to swallow. But I will continue to celebrate Milo and Loki because I know that’s what Austen would want me to do.

I’m not sure if holidays and celebrations will ever get any easier. There will always be an Austen-sized hole at every event and in our hearts daily. But Austen was so full of life, so eager and loving. I know she wouldn’t want me to cry or wallow because she isn’t here. She’d want us to celebrate with each other and to continue to celebrate her.

So, Milo and Loki will be getting special treats on their birthdays. We will plan something for Austen’s birthday as well, maybe with a strawberry cake and her favorite cheese quesadillas.

It’s just another step in moving forward. We will always carry our grief with us, but we can’t let it paralyze us.

Note: Dravet Syndrome News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Dravet Syndrome News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to Dravet syndrome.

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