My Daughter’s Birthday Far Away, and the Love That Still Shows Up

Today is my daughter Chloe’s 11th birthday, and I honestly do not know how that sentence is real. Eleven. Somehow the tiny baby I once held is now a full-on human with opinions, interests, and a personality that keeps evolving right in front of me, even from far away. Celebrating my daughter’s birthday far away never gets easier, but it has taught me a lot about love, grief, and showing up in different ways.

Chloe lives in Georgia with her dad, and I miss her like crazy. That part never stops hurting. But I refuse to let distance ruin our relationship, or turn love into something conditional on proximity.

How We Celebrated From Miles Apart

The first thing I did when I woke up was text her happy birthday. Then I went a little unhinged in the best mom way and flooded her phone with photos from throughout her life. Baby pictures. Toddler chaos. Awkward stages. All of it. I even sent her a video she had me record when she was five, where she announced she wanted to be a YouTube star so she could teach people how to dance.

Watching that again wrecked me in the best way. It reminded me that the core of who she is has always been there. Big dreams. Creativity. Confidence. Joy.

Her dad took her out to eat at Chick-fil-A, which she absolutely loves, and she got a bunch of cool cosplay stuff, yarn, and characters from her favorite YouTube show, Murder Drones. Hearing her excited voice talk about everything made me smile, even through the ache.

The Guilt That Crept In Anyway

And then came the part I do not love admitting. I had a small mental breakdown.

I hate that she is 12 to 14 hours away. I hate that I cannot just show up, hug her, and be there in the way I want to be. I miss her, and I miss my older kids, more than I usually let myself sit with.

But the hardest part today was the guilt. With all of my health issues, working a traditional job is not possible for me, and finding work-from-home options that actually fit my reality has felt damn near impossible. Because of that, I could not get her a birthday gift this year, and that broke something in me for a moment. It made me feel like a failure, even though I know logically that love is not measured in packages or price tags.

We did get to talk on the phone and video chat, though. Raelynn, my four-year-old, proudly wished her big sister a happy birthday, and that moment mattered more than anything I could have bought. Still, when it is my daughter’s birthday far away, the what-ifs and guilt tend to get loud.

A Maybe-Home and a Tiny Spark of Hope

On top of everything else, we are still waiting to hear back about the place we applied for. My partner’s mom went to check it out today, sent us a ton of pictures, and even met the landlord. Apparently it is in an apartment-style complex, but the unit itself is more like a townhouse, all on one floor. The landlord owns just the single unit, which feels oddly reassuring.

He also happens to be a neurologist here in the city, which I thought was kind of cool. He really seemed to like my partner’s mom, and from what she said, if we are approved, he wants us moved in by the 5th.

I am skeptical, because I always am. But I am also quietly hopeful. The neighborhood is safe, and the thought of not hearing gunshots at all hours of the night like we did when we had our house feels almost unreal. The only downside is that it is farther from friends and family, which stings. Still, having a space of our own again would be everything.

Parenting While Exhausted and Still Trying

Meanwhile, little miss Raelynn has been… a lot. She has a tiny-person attitude problem lately, and listening seems optional in her world, especially when it comes to me. I have found myself yelling more than talking, and I hate that.

But here is the truth I am reminding myself of tonight. Asking nicely six times, then firmly five more times, and still being ignored would push anyone. Yelling does not make me a bad parent, even if it makes me feel like one afterward. It means I am human, tired, overwhelmed, and still trying.

Holding Love Across Distance

Today was a lot. Joy and grief sat side by side. Pride and guilt took turns talking. Hope tiptoed in while exhaustion tried to take over. That seems to be the theme of this season of my life.

Even though my daughter’s birthday is far away, my love for her is not. It shows up in texts, memories, videos, late-night tears, and the quiet promise that I will keep trying, even on the days it hurts.

Question:

What is one way you show love when circumstances make it harder than you wish it were?