I held my son’s first birthday party in a bar - for me

"The celebration was more about my first year as a mum than my baby."

After a traumatic birth and suffering postnatal depression, a mother chose to celebrate herself for giving birth to her son, rather than celebrating his first year of life. 

Jamie Silver describes her traumatic birth experience and that she felt like a part of herself was left behind when her son was born.

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“I did not know at the time, but when he entered my world, part of me left.

“What followed over the next 48 hours can only be described as a traumatic experience. I shed layers of myself while dealing with a demoralizing battle with breastfeeding, a raging bladder infection, and insomnia.

"I felt transformed from a badass, opinionated ladyboss to somebody diminished and unrecognizable."

When Jamie went home, what her family thought was the “baby blues” became worse and was diagnosed with perinatal mood and anxiety disorder. 

“My whole maternity leave was spent in an out-patient program for other women struggling with motherhood. Five days a week, I walked a mile to the facility with my son in tow and received intensive counseling and group therapy,” she writes.

In her essay, Jamie talks openly about her darkest moment, when she considered “whether any of me should be here at all.” She chose to stay, and six months postpartum she began to find herself again. 

“I recognized myself again in my career, back at the gym, over a glass of wine, and in the simplest laughter. I found my son too, and I fell in love with him. I looked forward to seeing him after work, I wanted to play with him and feed him, and I wanted to be a mom.”

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Her son’s first birthday was her birth-day too! 

As her son’s first birthday approached, Jamie realised the work she had put in, not only his first year of life, but also his gestation. So why not celebrate herself? 

Jamie took back what she had lost, after giving birth and chose to celebrate her return to being Jamie, or at least the new version of Jamie. 

“So I chose to celebrate my birth-date. I booked a bar, I put down a credit card, and invited all of my friends and family. I dressed up for drinks. 

“The bar was deliciously loud with alternative 90s music, laughter, and that clink glasses make when they hit tabletops. Every person to greet me set off a chain reaction of memories spent together. The variety of people there meant a spectrum of memories from the me I used to be, to who I was becoming. 

“This day was less about “aw how cute is he?” and more about “I found the new me.”

In reality, her son wouldn’t know it was his birthday from any other day of the week. But for Jamie, she knew what that day meant to her, she changed the narrative from a dark time to celebration.

Originally published as I held my son’s first birthday party in a bar - for me