I’ve always attended birthday parties for family members while growing up, but I still remember the first birthday party I was invited to by a friend. It was held at a roller-skating rink, and to this day, I remember how much fun I had.

One detail especially stands out. Instead of filling the goodie bags with candy or small toys, they gave out books. I loved the idea. In fact, that gift is what started my reading journey. My first book was from the Goosebumps series. I think it was Stay Out of the Basement, though I can’t say for certain.

I also remember watching my friend sit in the spotlight while everyone gathered around for cake and presents. At the time, I considered them one of the popular kids, and if I’m being honest, I felt pretty cool being friends with them.

As the years went by, birthday invitations continued to arrive from time to time, and I started wanting a birthday party of my own. I remember talking about it with family members, but the response was usually the same. Since my birthday falls in August, it would be difficult to organize.

Looking back, I can understand some of the challenges. This was long before texting, social media, and smartphones. Everything revolved around landline telephones. To invite classmates, we would have needed their phone numbers. Since I attended a Deaf school, most of my friends were Deaf and/or hard of hearing, making party invitations much more complicated than simply picking up a phone. As a child, I didn’t think much about those obstacles. I just knew I wanted a birthday party like everyone else.

Family members would sometimes stop by with a gift or two, but there was never a cake, decorations, or anything that felt like a celebration.

As a child, watching other family members be celebrated while feeling overlooked left a mark on me emotionally. Looking back, it contributed to a feeling that I wasn’t particularly special at home or at school. I carried a lot of sadness and anger growing up. There were many layers to those feelings, but that’s a story for another day.

A few months before my 30th birthday, I shared those feelings with my partner at the time. They already knew much of what I had experienced over the previous decade, so I hoped they would understand.

Instead, they looked at me and said, “If you want a birthday party, then you can buy the decorations, the cake, and host it yourself. You pay for it.”

I was stunned.

Not long afterward, a family member announced plans to celebrate their birthday. I immediately canceled the idea of having my own. At the time, I felt like I would be copying them, and I didn’t want my birthday viewed that way. I never brought it up again.

Years later, sometime between my 30th and 40th birthdays, I watched other family members host birthday parties for different relatives. They went out of their way to make people feel celebrated and special. I was genuinely happy for them, but I would be lying if I said it didn’t stir up old feelings, too.

Then my 40th birthday started approaching.

A good friend invited me on a trip outside of the United States. I rushed out to get my very first passport and booked my round-trip ticket. As it turned out, the trip landed during my birthday week. At some point, I casually mentioned to my friend that I would be turning 40 that year.

Today, when I walk into my bathroom and see the rainbow-haired white duck sitting by the sink, or when I’m sitting at my computer and notice the rainbow pencil she gave me, I can’t help but smile. They are small reminders of a moment that meant far more than the gifts themselves.

My friend secretly organized a surprise birthday party at a nearby pub with a group of new friends.

I had absolutely no idea.

Even now, writing about it brings tears to my eyes.

It was the very first birthday party that was created just for me.

A birthday party.

For me.

For the first time, I felt special.

For the first time, I felt seen.

JO, I don’t think you’ll ever truly know how much that meant to me. I was completely speechless.

Thank you.