For the first time ever, I am going to be sick on my birthday. It’s on Saturday and tonight as I type this I have a fever, something which I have it had in ten-something years. My body feels broken and I cannot help but wonder what will happen, years from now, when a mama goes into labor and I’m incapacitated. Then what? Back up midwife. But what about the relationship I’ve built with my client? I know, shit happens. We’d deal but I’d still feel guilty for missing the birth.

I’m the type of person that, when I get sick, I feel like I’m dying and I make sure everyone around me knows it. Not for attention, but so they will stay away. I’m locked in my room while the boys are playing downstairs. I’m thankful for this time so they can bond and I can rest.

More than anything, though, I’m pretty bummed that I’m spending my birthday feeling like crap. Hopefully better than I feel now. I love celebrating my birthday and even if we just order pizza and watch a movie, I’d be happy.


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