Both Can Be True: Reclaiming My Birthday While Carrying the Grief

My birthday has always been special to me—not just because it's the day I was born, but because of all the magic that comes with summer. I’m grateful to have grown up in a family that made sure us kids were celebrated every single year. One of my favorite memories is still my 13th birthday party at a go-kart facility.

However, my past two birthdays have been completely overshadowed by immense grief and loss.

In the span of just two years, I have survived a miscarriage, experienced complex medical traumas that damaged my reproductive organs and resulted in the removal of my appendix and gallbladder, was diagnosed with a rare neurological condition, and faced the deaths of my grandfather, my beloved cat, and my beloved dog.

That’s a whole f****** lot.

So this year, I threw myself a 37th birthday party. And soon, I will be in England for over two weeks to soak up time with my cousin and her family.

In 2024, I found out I was pregnant just weeks before my 35th birthday. My husband and I were thrilled; we had been trying to conceive for five years. Because of our history with fertility issues, I was able to see the OBGYN early, prior to the typical first appointment at six weeks. Regular hormone checks unfortunately, started showing signs of an impending miscarriage. On June 22, 2024, just three days before my birthday, the physical symptoms began.

While I was actively, heavily bleeding, I carried on with the 35th birthday party I had planned for myself. You would never know it looking at the pictures from that day. My best friend was in town with her mom and kids, and I was so grateful they were there. They cooked, they cleaned, and they truly carried me through that first week.

I went on to experience complex health conditions after the miscarriage. At times, I was quite literally fighting for my vision and for my life. Sprinkled in with the medical complications were numerous other heavy-hitting moments: my mother-in-law receiving an Alzheimer’s diagnosis, the deaths of my grandfather, our cat, and our dog, and just... life.

The death of my grandfather in 2025 was the first time I lost a grandparent. It hit me like a ton of bricks—not only because we were losing him, but because I was sitting there witnessing his final breaths on the exact anniversary of the day my miscarriage began the year prior.

Just a month before he passed, I visited my grandparents. I had only planned to stay for a couple of hours, but my grandfather insisted I stay longer. He wanted me there for dinner and refused to let me make the two-minute drive to pick up food, making me order delivery instead. We spent hours talking about his days in the Navy, his career at Okonite, our shared experience with appendicitis, and his care for our family. He showered me with praise for how well I was handling my health journey.

I drove away that day in tears, with a sinking feeling in my stomach that it would be my last visit with him.

A month later, our family surrounded his hospital bed. I got a moment alone with him. He was unconscious, but the nurses reminded us he could likely still hear us. I held his hand and thanked him for that wonderful dinner the month before.

My grandfather’s death brought our family closer, and it deeply strengthened my relationship with my grandmother. I stayed with her for several weeks so she wouldn't have to be alone—something she had never experienced in her entire life. During that time, I discovered the letters my grandfather wrote to her every single day while he was away at war in the 1950s. She had saved every one.

Looking through them, I felt a calling to share their love story and decided to write a book based on their love letters. Going through his words has been a vital way for me to process my grief. While it is bittersweet, I am so thankful for the deep conversations these letters have prompted between my grandmother and me.

By October of 2025, the worst of my health complications were behind me, and I was finally feeling better. That same month, I attended an event hosted by Rebecca Feinglos. While the event was unrelated to Grieve Leave, I was familiar with her work, having  attended "Sad Hours" in the past for my grief. Seeing how the platform was growing, and knowing Rebecca was doing a lot of the heavy lifting herself, I offered to volunteer my time to help her.

She wasn't having it. My volunteer offer turned into a full-time job.

Working for someone who is doing incredible things to help people navigate their grief has been incredibly rewarding. I am beyond excited for what’s to come, and I'm thankful for this opportunity every single day.

With the exception of losing my cat and dog, these past six months have been so good. I would even dare to say I have been thriving.

I wasn’t originally planning to throw myself a party this year. But as my trip to England drew closer, I realized I wanted to celebrate my life with the loved ones who are right here with me in North Carolina. Having so many of my favorite people together in one place was incredibly special. Family, longtime friends, and new friends all took time out of their lives to celebrate with me.

I ended the day in tears, but very happy ones. Later that night, I received messages from multiple friends telling me how wonderful it was to see me happy, using words like “glowing” and “vibrant” to describe me.

I cried because looking back, there were so many moments where I felt the furthest thing from vibrant. I felt low, fearful, and in constant physical and emotional pain. My heart shattered into a million pieces when we lost our baby, and there were times I was genuinely terrified my health complications would kill me.

These past two years have taught me to let go of the trivial things I used to get hung up on. They taught me to love deeply, say yes to more adventures, appreciate the simple things, and live every single day to the absolute fullest.

I am eternally grateful to be alive, healthy, thriving, and vibrant. It has been a true privilege to reclaim my birthday this year. I have so much to be grateful for: my partner who has been by my side through it all, my new puppy, the village that carried me through my darkest times, my job, and most of all, my life.

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