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On April 9th, you told me Happy Birthday. You photoshopped cheesy balloons on my newborn palms, kazoos in the family mouths, and the happiness that appeared in everybody's cold eyes. You posted it on Instagram. People where commenting how "the best mom award goes to you!". I bet you imagined me feeling happy on April 9th, digging into great presents and enjoying family. It wasn't my birthday. Once when you were allowed to see me, you sat in a room with a supervisor. You told me "Happy Birthday, I hope you have a fantastic afternoon." You asked if Dad got a birthday cake for me. It was April 4th. Still. Not my birthday. It's alright. Mothers forget birthdays. Favorite Colors. Names. And what my favorite birthday cake is.