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Gomberg: We do birthdays all backward, spending too much time celebrating the wrong person

Marina Gomberg

Sure, coming into existence is miraculous, but to be fair, my mom deserves almost all the credit for my grand entrance.

I certainly take credit for my son Harvey’s arrival.

All he did was multiply like a little (adorable and perfect) virus, while I hauled his butt around for nine months simultaneously growing a new organ to sustain him.

No, it’s fine, son, I’ll just rearrange my insides so you can play soccer with my kidneys and make putting on my shoes feel like an Olympic event. Then, after I become malleable for a couple days so you can fit your oversized head through my life door, we’ll go ahead and throw you a party every year to commemorate.

I gave up coffee, my waistline and deep breaths to bring that kiddo into this world, so of course I took a moment to celebrate myself on his first birthday last summer.

I remembered the 40 weeks of gestation followed by 33 hours of natural labor, and I was like Maui on Disney’s “Moana” giving Harvey unsolicited “you’re welcomes” for all I’ve done to make his life awesome.

Not to be all Daniel-downer (sorry, my mom’s name is Debby), and maybe you’ve already noticed, but women are undervalued a bit (ha), and so it kind of feels like maybe we should at least honor their contributions to, you know, the continuation and vitality of our species — just that little thing.

I mean, I had a relatively healthy and easy pregnancy, and even I can tell you that it ain’t for the faint of heart. Building babies, let alone raising them, is serious business — despite the fact it’s done every minute of every day by a whole lot of people.

And if the act of reproduction alone weren’t tough enough, society heaps on insane pressures to be the perfect vessel (a womb with a view!), and then to look shortly thereafter as if you’ve never done that glorious deed.

Women everywhere are manufacturing life and somehow we only celebrate their product on its launch day anniversary and then only the product, not the manufacturer. I get it; as an adoring mama, I really only want to celebrate my human creation on his day (and, really, every day), but on my own birthday this year I decided to celebrate my mama.

As Allison Janney’s character, Loretta, says in “Drop Dead Gorgeous” about parenthood, “I know you sacrificed everything — relationships, dreams, your tummy, a-- and thighs — all to bring me into this world,” so the least I could do is acknowledge how much I appreciate you bringing me to life, and all the sacrifices you made and opportunities you’ve created for me since then.

I don’t know if there is a better way to say it, but here goes: Happy my birthday to you, mama.

Debby Gomberg is pregnant with her daughter, Marina. Now a mother herself, Marina Gomberg is starting to think birthdays should be about the mom, not the children.

Marina Gomberg is starting to think her birthday would be better spent celebrating her mother, Debby, instead of herself.

Marina Gomberg’s lifestyle columns appear on sltrib.com. She is a communications professional and lives in Salt Lake City with her wife, Elenor Gomberg, and their son, Harvey. You can reach Marina at mgomberg@sltrib.com.