by Rupert Flagg

Created on: July 01, 2009

Birthday parties take on a whole new meaning for children who are in foster care. My three birth children could take or leave the party, as long as the gifts were from the pre-written lists they'd prepared. It'd been planned that general parties would stop at the tenth birthday. We'd adopted the quinceanera after seeing one while stationed in the Republic of Panama. My daughters took to the elaborate celebration like fish to water.

The day that the quiet little dark-haired girl came to live us, it never crossed my mind that I'd learn something about birthday's and birthday parties; up to that point and for many days after her arrival, birthday parties were just a tolerated time of screaming kids, toys that got broken hours after they were removed from wrappers meant to deter a shoplifter and cause frustration to the honest buyer.
This little girl was 20 days from turning three years old when she came to live with us. She hadn't much use for me because her abuser had been an adult female. So in an attempt to gain brownie points with this beautiful little girl, who's eye where blank and hollow whenever she looked at me, I planned a princess party for her. I bought crowns and scepters. I searched every discount store for frilly girlie things. My husband and I took her to toy stores committed to purchasing every toy that sparked her interest. But, to our dismay, she sat quietly in the stroller and didn't make a sound. She was so quiet, we thought she'd fallen asleep.
Our foster son, whom we'd had since birth, strained against the straps yelling and pointing at every thing we passed. He clapped happily and kicked his legs. It was apparent to us and everyone around us that he had no intention of allowing us to leave the store without a toy. The quiet little girl sat very still, not even looking at the noisy boy next to her.

The big day came. The little girl sat very still as my daughter did her hair in a style that would accommodate her crown. We decorated a chair and placed her at the head of the table. She sat staring wide-eyed at the other little girls playing around her. I noticed that all the squealing and laughter made her eyes twinkle and she even smiled a few time. We placed the cake in front of her and began to sing happy birthday, each little girl singing at the top of her lungs in the understanding that this day was somehow more special than any other, with of course the exception of Christmas.
I smiled, very proud of myself. The pretty little girl looked at the smiling faces around her. She then looked at my daughter, placed her hands over her little face and sobbed. From then on she clung to my daughter, not even wanting to touch the toys. That day changed something in our family. The next year we didn't celebrate her birthday with a party, but we had a party for her brother. The next year, we had an adoption party for her. She smiled and chatted with her friends, but we didn't have a birthday party for anyone that year, because we were healing from divorce. This year, she began the count down from day one of her birth month, she prepared a gift list and checked each day to make certain than it was getting closer to what she was now calling "her day".

As we sang "Happy Birthday" to her. She smiled brightly and blew out her candles. She moved closer to me and wrapped her arms around my waist. "Thank you for my day, Mom!" she said smiling up at me. She'll be ten in a couple of years and it crossed my mind that I'll have to sit down with her and discuss the whole birthday tradition in our family.

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