Christmas Day Birthday Memories
Hey, I’m Mom’s Christmas Present!
(The following is written by Devanie, creator of www.christmasbirthday.net. Please, take my ego down a notch and write in with your own memories of being born on or around Dec. 25. The e-mail is email@example.com.)
Probably the reason I have such a healthy ego (joking here) is that my mom has always told me I was the “best Christmas present she ever got.” I was born in the afternoon of Dec. 25, 1971.
Christmas has always been a fun time for me, as my nuclear family has always made a point of making sure that my birthday was recognized throughout the day. In fact, the only times I’ve been disappointed or resentful about my Christmas birthday is times when we’ve been visited extended family that hasn’t been conditioned to acknowledge the fact that the world revolves around me.
Here are some of my favorite things about being born on Christmas: I get to “stretch out” the festivities in a way other kids don’t. I ask for a home-cooked birthday dinner of choice one day, a restaurant dinner out another day and, even as an adult, I usually get to cram a family party in there, too. Milk it, baby! I like the fact that, contrary to what one might assume, friends and family rarely forget my birthday, since it’s an easy day to remember. I even get cards from people who “don’t do birthdays” just because they happened to remember mine was coming up, or because they were out Christmas shopping and decided to pick something up for me, too. Starting at about age 12, I’ve opted for the larger, combined Christmas-birthday gift. My family was never rolling in dough, but this strategy got me a boombox in junior high, a mini TV in high school and some other cool stuff I wouldn’t have been able to get otherwise. I also preferred birthday pie to birthday cake.
OK, here are some of things I don’t like about being born on Christmas: While some Christmas babies relish being able to have the day off from work and school, I kinda missed the attention I saw other people get there on their birthdays. Additionally, there is a long dry spell between gifts. When I was a kid, if I wanted something big, I had to wait a long time or scrounge up the money myself. And usually, at Christmas time, everyone’s short of money, so you don’t get a gift, or you get a combined birthday-Christmas gift that usually isn’t much pricier than a single gift. (Yes, I was materialistic as a kid. Some say I still am.) The birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper—that bugs me to this day. I don’t mind the commercially made “Christmas Birthday” cards, but I don’t like getting a regular Christmas card with “Happy Birthday” written in.
Growing up with a Christmas birthday, one thing I was always grateful for was that I wasn’t born on Dec. 24 or Dec. 26. (No offense to anyone born on those dates).
I was born at 7:30 p.m. December 25, 1984. One of my favorite stories ever since I was little was how I ruined Christmas that year. It was said jokingly by everyone except for my sister, who had just turned 4 when I was born.
I was actually supposed to be born December 15. All along my mother said, “I don’t care when the baby’s born, as long as it’s not Christmas Day.” Christmas morning she woke up with contractions. I think that was probably the only year that our parents had to wake up a child on Christmas morning.
So, she woke up my father, they woke up my sister, and proceeded to go through the fastest unwrapping of presents ever. I kind of wish I could’ve seen all the frenzy. But after unwrapping all these cool new presents and toys, my parents took my sister to our grandparents’ house without any of her new toys. There, they went through another fast unwrapping, then my parents went to the hospital. This wasn’t even the extent of the craziness. That year the family Christmas ended up being my grandmother, my grandfather and my sister. My uncles were all really sick so they stayed home, and my aunt couldn’t come into town because of the weather. I kind of enjoyed having ruined Christmas because of all the times my sister picked on me.
One good thing about being a Christmas baby is the surprise parties. You can’t have a party on your birthday, and I remember a few different occasions when I thought we had planned a party for a certain day, but then there ended up being a surprise party for me. For people who can have a party on their actual birthday, it’s kind of hard to have a surprise party.
Can’t Celebrate on the Right Day
I was my mother’s first (and only) child. As she told the story, oddly enough she said she got pregnant upon first try, which was Easter Sunday! I guess my parents did it after church.
Anyway, I was not due until January, so when my mom awoke early Christmas morning to a wet bed, she assumed the waterbed had sprung a leak. The year was 1977 and waterbeds were all the rage back then, I digress. On further investigation it was discovered the bed was intact and the baby was coming early. My mom called her doctor who told her since this was her first baby she would be in labor for a day or more and to call him when the contractions were closer. My mom and dad attempted to go about their day by going to my father’s parent’s home for Christmas breakfast and opening gifts. My grandfather was a stickler for only having Christmas on Christmas, regardless of progressing labor or other serious incidents that should arise. It was soon clear that Christmas was going to be spent in the hospital and my parents headed to the local hospital after placing another call to their physician.
The nurse assigned to my mother was clearly pissed off for being forced to work Christmas Day. She was rude and neglectful of my mother, refusing to check her progress or call the doctor. Again, my mom got the “this is your first baby” speech. It was now approaching noon and I was ready to make my way out, of course not realizing what a poor choice of days to be born. My father finally ran into the hall. grabbed the first doctor he saw and dragged him into the room to examine my mother. Ten minutes later my parents had a baby girl.
After hearing the news, many family members thought of “cute” names for me: Noel, Holly (you get the idea). My parents, trying to spare me future pain, decided on a non-Christmas name, Jessica. But as it turns out, people seem to think my parents were giving me a feminine version of Jesus. NO! That is not what they were doing! Three of the same letters does not mean that was their intention at all.
Well, I left the hospital in a giant red-and-white Christmas stocking that I have to this day. I thought that was special until one year my mom remarked, “You were supposed to be born on New Years Day. If you were the first baby of the New Year, I would get a bunch of free stuff and had my picture in the paper.” “Sorry to disappoint,” I responded.
I have survived never having a party as a kid. Well, we tried one year and only one kid came and I cried. I have survived the calls to wish me a Merry Christmas and forgetting to wish me a happy birthday, from my own father. I have survived turning 16 with no driver’s license, 21 with no first drink and acknowledgement of the occasion. I have even survived year after year of the trite comments and lack of gifts. But this year I am feeling especially down. I will be 30 in just a few weeks now. I want to celebrate it! I want to go out Christmas Day and have a few cocktails, stand on a table and shout, “I am 30!” and kick my legs up in the air. I have some great friends who would celebrate with me if my birthday were any other day, but they have kids and family obligations.
I feel like celebrating on any other day just does not convey the feeling of it actually being my birthday, not to mention the alternate day to celebrate is never the day before or after. This is the first Christmas where I am not looking forward to any gifts for myself or even asking for things like I usually do. I just want one day to be special for me. I do not think those with non-holiday birthdays can relate because while they may not have a special day every year for their birthday, they have at least had one in their life thus far.
It’s Not Bad at All
I have been cursed (blessed) with being born on Christmas. To me, it’s really not that bad.
I’ve never worked or went to school on my birthday. My mother has always got me something special for my birthday. Yes, I have got the combo gift but it really wasn’t bad. In the mid-’80s I got a TV/monitor combo, which was really cool and I knew we did not have lots of money so I didn’t milk my mom for anything, either.
I never really wanted a birthday party as a kid. I’ve always wanted to be “that guy” who really did not care about birthdays and it’s worked out that way. I can remember as a kid in 3rd grade we always had the Christmas gift swap. There was a really “poor” kid who had a present of a puzzle that had pieces missing. I’m not really sure how we knew but nobody wanted that gift. Somebody else got the gift and starting crying (since he knew he got the puzzle). I walked over and asked him if he wanted to trade. He did and I opened up the puzzle and thought it was a nice puzzle (actually it did not have any pieces missing but it was not a “new” puzzle). The teacher started crying and could not believe that I would do something like that. She bought me an ice cream later that day for doing that. My family has always been good (even today) about my birthday. My oldest brother (12 years older) always gets me the cool Christmas/Birthday cards. One had “People always think the stork brings babies,” you open the card and it says, “in your case it was Santa.”
Now I have an uncle (on my wife’s side) who shares the same birthday as me. We talk for about 20 seconds to wish each other Happy Birthday and then move on. I was born in 1968.
A Very “Merry” Christmas
by Merry Battles
My name is Merry Christina Battles. I was born on Christmas Eve, Dec. 24. My mother named me Merry, not paying attention to my last name Battles. Merry Battles, that’s how it has always been. I like the irony, the yin and yang of it.
I have had many battles but in the end they have turned out merry.
My mother’s doctor said to her, “I have not delivered a baby in 25 years on Christmas Day, and you are not going to be the first.” My mother was induced on Dec. 24 and says I was born half an hour later.
People tell me I must have been cheated on presents. My family always gave me two and more! I tell my grandchildren that Santa comes on my birthday. There is always a party on my birthday and it’s the time of year for my personal bounty!
I guess I was destined to write a book about Christmas. “Christmas Meditations on the Twelve Holy Days December 26-January 6” is my 26-year meditation journey with the 12 Holy Days of Christmas. It is written and illustrated by me and can be used all year as we travel through each sign of the Zodiac. My Web site is at http//:www.merrybattles.com/
I will always say “Merry Christmas” because it is my namesake!
A Love-Hate Relationship
by Sarah H.
My birthday is Dec. 25th, 1979.
It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who struggles through a Christmas birthday! So many stories I could share! (Maybe I’ll send one your way eventually!) I was lucky enough to be born a week after my brother’s birthday and four days after my uncle’s. Not only do I not get my own day on the 25th, but ever since I was about 12, our family has celebrated all three December birthdays on one day–why make three dinners all in a matter of a week?! No resentment here! As you all know though, it’s certainly a love-hate relationship! I could easily say I hate my birthday but if I could ever change it, I definitely wouldn’t!
Wrapped in a Stocking
by Samantha B.
My name is Samantha. I was born on December 25, 1981. My parents had just married in 1980 and my mom was pregnant with me when she graduated from optometry school in Indiana. My mom started having contractions that morning and my dad drove them to the hospital. He was speeding because the roads has just been salted and he was hoping that a policeman would pull him over so they could get an escort, but no such luck. They arrived and had to call in the on-call doctor because he was at home with his family. My parents did not have time to have breakfast and my dad was a little hungry and wanted to get something to eat, but my mom was very nervous and a little scared and begged my dad not to leave her. There was no one at the hospital and the janitorial staff had locked all the supply closets, so after they cleaned me up, one of the nurses wrapped me in one of the Christmas stockings hanging on the reception desk. I was not born until after 10 that evening. My dad finally went out to the car to grab some fast food and saw that his headlights were still on, the car battery died and he had to walk in the snow to a phone booth to call a tow truck to jumpstart him. I made the newspaper and my mom still has the clipping.
Still Hating It After All These Years
by Walter John “Scrooge” O’Brien
My name is Walter John O’Brien, I was born on December 25, 1951. Right on the nose Christmas baby. Hate it now, always hated it! I joke a lot that my middle name is Scrooge, and friends know I’m not lying. Worst thing about it? No, not being cheated on presents. I was also and am an only child, so that all balanced out, and at this advanced age, who cares about presents! Worst thing is those lame Christmas Birthday cards. Much to my Mom’s chagrin, she’s seen me rip them up right out of the envelope when I get them. I always resented sending Christmas cards, although I softened on that since my 40s and the ability to send them via e-mail. But the dual-purpose cards suck.
The other thing that always upset me growing up was that I could never have a birthday party with friends on my birthday. Everyone is always off with their families so were not available. Sure, I could have a few days early or late, but it isn’t the same. And many times I even had half-birthday parties on June 25, but still, not my real birthday.
Whenever anyone asks my birthdate I always say 12/25/51 just like that, never December 25th, 1951. But no luck, they always figure it out right away and say the dreaded line: “Oh, a Christmas baby, huh?” Yeah, lady, a 56-year-old Christmas baby. Shut up. Yeah, I was quite a present for my parents, right, heard it before. Always had a soft spot for friends over the years that have the same birthday … but a little less for the ones a couple days away who try to say they know how it feels. Well, now I feel like all those woman who always tell me how “I could never understand, you don’t have children.” Well, if you aren’t born exactly on Christmas, you wouldn’t know either, so there. OK, so by the ripe age of 56 I really am mostly over it, but you asked, and clearly, it’s still pretty close to the surface.
One interesting thing about my particular birth date and place: I was born at Elizabeth General Hospital in Elizabeth, New Jersey, now extinct. On the same Christmas morning I was born, there were five babies born. My parents were (and are) named Marie and Walter. One of the other couples was named…. Mary and Walter. The third couple was named … Mary and Walter. The fourth couple was named … Mary and Walter. And the fifth couple, well I have no idea but it wasn’t Mary or Marie or Walter, so who cares. But four out of five couples with nearly exactly the same names? Pretty odd, I think. I was the only child named Walter, though. Technically the fourth, I think, but we all had different middle names so no numbers or junior or senior, thankfully. And yes, I do remind my friends every chance I get that it’s my birthday we celebrate on December 25th first, and the rest is all background. Doesn’t really matter … nobody’s around to notice, they’re all off with their families having Christmas anyway… sigh.
by Becki De Vall
I was born on Christmas Day in 1966. I don’t know if I am just unique, but I truly have not minded one whit having a Christmas birthday. That is mostly due to the fact that my parents always made my birthday very special. I always got the same amount of presents for my birthday as my brother and sisters did for their birthdays, and I have even had a few birthday parties over the years. So, every time this subject comes up in conversation, and I am asked how it was growing up, I always respond, “I was the best Christmas present my parents ever received!” That tends to make folks laugh a bit and the conversation moves on to other things. I’m sure that some folks think of being born on Christmas as a stigma of some kind, but if you truly know what the holiday is all about, it’s not really that big of a deal. I find it to be a very nice day to have been born. So, here’s my advice to all of us Christmas “babies.”: Since we have been so fortunate to have been born on this wonderful day, revel in it! And, think about this … at least we weren’t born on February 29th!
Mom Made Birthdays Special
by Thomas MacEntee
“I was born at 6:50 am on December 25 in a small upstate New York town. My mother went into labor during a poker game after Midnight Mass.” This always gets people laughing after I’ve told them that I was born on Christmas Day. I usually throw out this line in response to the predictable, “Oh that must have been tough as a kid,” or, “I bet you got cheated on presents, didn’t you?”
There is much truth to my mother going into labor during a poker game but to be entirely truthful, I must tell you that Mom went into labor almost 12 hours earlier, she just didn’t know it. You see, I was the first born and when my mother was carrying me, she had to go to the bathroom quite often. Not having gone through the rigors of labor and childbirth before, she didn’t realize that as she was cleaning kitchen cupboards on a step ladder (as I’m sure all women who are nine months pregnant do – perhaps it is part of the nesting instinct), her water broke. Mom simply thought she had to “go again.”
After taking care of business, my mother went through with her Christmas Eve plans which included visits to relatives’ homes and an elaborate Christmas Eve dinner celebration at the home of my future godparents. As was the custom, once presents were exchanged and the children were tucked in bed, many of the remaining guests went on to Midnight Mass at the local Catholic church.
Then, despite the late hour and the celebrations, there were always a few hearty souls who insisted on getting together a poker game after church. We are Irish Catholic, after all, and this still seems to be quite normal in my family to this day. Well, about 4 a.m. my mother started to experience severe contractions and was rushed to the local hospital. And in a little under three hours I was born, placed inside an oversized Christmas stocking and put on display in a bassinette inside the maternity ward.
So, what was it like to grow up with a birthday on Christmas? There were more minuses than pluses as I saw it from a child’s perspective. I do give Mom lots of credit though, for she insisted on having a separate birthday party in the evening on Christmas Day. Relatives would come over to visit and those who remembered would bring a gift or a card. Very often the cards were “suspect” in my eyes – frequently handmade out of the most bizarre items including Christmas cards received weeks earlier, some glitter and a child’s drawings. When I grew up, this was before stores like Walgreen’s or CVS or Kmart were open on Christmas Day – so there was no ability to rush out and buy a birthday card when one smacked one’s head and said, “We forgot Thomas’ birthday!”
Gifts were often festooned and wrapped with Christmas paper, or Christmas paper inverted so that it looked white and generic, but also with that Sunday’s funny papers or even aluminum foil. Try as she might, Mom was unable to win the battle most years as she tried to make her oldest son’s day seem special.
When I met my partner, he immediately said, “You have birthday issues,” as I laid down my birthday rules the first year we were together: I wanted a birthday card, not a combination holiday birthday card (of which there was only one type printed each year so I often received several.); Gifts must be wrapped in birthday wrapping paper, not inverted holiday wrapping, or comics, or tin foil or some odd piece of fabric found sitting around the house; A birthday meal would be nice, but given the day it need not be on the actual day of birth.
Now, I maintain a genealogy/family history blog, Destination: Austin Family (http://destinationaustinfamily.blogspot.com) which has much more information on my life as a Christmas Baby.
Twice As Good
I was born Dec. 25, 1987. Until now, I’d never really thought about the potential community found among people who are all born on Christmas–there’s so many things that we all experience!
I felt that I should add another positive point of view to represent what is apparently the minority of Christmas babies. For me, it has always been something special and something to be proud of … though in a kind of weird way because I’m not religious. Actually, I suppose that’s what made me enjoy my birthday: I never had to deal with all that Jesus silliness interfering with my birthday time because my parents got enough of Christianity in their own childhoods. Being an only child and having really wonderful parents helps as well. They’ve always been hip to the “no combo presents” rule … and with no siblings to worry about, they usually spoiled me. It totally made up for all the combo presents I would get from cousins and other relatives. Also, I just love this time of the year. And looking at the pretty lights and decorations … it’s great. There’s always such excitement in the air before Christmas. I know it’s not really because of my birthday, but I just pretend it is. For me, having the two at once together is basically just twice as satisfying as a normal Christmas. Usually, Christmas excitement is over after the whole breakfast/presents routine. The rest of the day is birthday time, so the fun never stops!
I do feel that I finally understand where the unhappy xmas kids come from. I live in a very liberal city and usually we celebrate there, but one year a relative of mine really wanted to go to Branson, Missouri, of all places. To be there is suicide-inducing. Especially on Christmas, when everything is a little run down and no one can shut up about Jesus H. Christ. Terrible lodging and suffocating amount of Republicans (not to mention some sibling of the Osmond family) aside, what was actually the worst part was the overwhelming amount of religious Christmas propaganda around. I’ve never felt more insignificant. Well … that’s an exaggeration I guess, but basically Jesus sucked all joy out of my birthday. I don’t really hate the guy, but I do consider him my birthday rival.
Too Much Sharing
by JEnnifer JOnes-Horton
My sister was born on Christmas Eve, and we would have all of our friends over to celebrate the holidays with us! At exactly midnight, my mother would say Happy Birthday to me, which my sister hated because not only did she have to share her birthday with “Christmas,” she also had to share her birthday with me.
As a little girl, when we woke up on Christmas morning for the Happy Birthday, I would pretend that Christmas was the only special part of the day and then would secretly time when they remembered to say Happy Birthday. Sometimes it would be at 6 a.m. when we woke up … other times it would be as late as 11:30 a.m.
As a young adult, I would participate in Christmas by going to my parents’ house and then in the evening they would come to my apartment and I would make dinner for them. Now as a newlywed, my husband gives me a birthday month! Probably part of the reason I married him. He took my birthday seriously! My husband, Barry, is a vegan chef in Mendocino, California, at the Raven’s Restaurant, which has a dog friendly section. So, for my birthday dinner I get a table for one with my dog Tasha and enjoy Barry’s multi-course meal. He sends out surprises and visits when he has a second. It is amazing and indulgent!
Mixed Emotions of a Christmas Baby
As the story goes, I supposedly created one heck of an ordeal on Christmas Day, 1978. As my dad tells it, there was a snowstorm, a broken-down car, a long hike in the snow, and a very grumpy set of in-laws involved. Fortunately, my mom and I were safe and warm at the hospital during the whole frenzy. While everyone was thrilled to have a new “Christmas present,” my dad’s accounts of that day have always made me feel a little guilty about my insistence on joining the world two weeks earlier than I was supposed to.
For the majority of my life, I have actually enjoyed having a birthday on Christmas Day. There is something about the attention I get when someone checks my ID, and feels compelled to say, “Awwww, a Christmas baby!” The Christmas/Birthday combo cards make me feel special … after all, how many other birthdays get special cards printed up for that specific day? I have always received a good amount of presents from my family (wrapped in birthday paper), despite everyone’s assumption that all Christmas babies get gypped on gifts. For the first eight years of my life, the best part of my birthday was the bond I had with my grandpa, as he was also a Christmas baby. We would sing “Happy Birthday” to each other and open birthday presents together during the extended family Christmas gathering. Plus, I have always gotten a little birthday gift from an extended family member who didn’t want me to feel forgotten on my day. Of course, that always ruffled the feathers of my sister and cousins, but I enjoyed it.
As I have gotten older though, I have become increasingly bitter about my birthday. I did get to celebrate my 21st birthday out on the town, as we actually have one bar in my hometown that stays open on Christmas. However, it wasn’t a huge shindig like it was for all of my other friends. It was me, my sister, and my cousin. I appreciated their efforts to take me out, but it definitely wasn’t the typical wild and crazy 21st. I was also fortunate to celebrate my 22nd-24th birthdays out at that bar. Since all of my high school friends were home for the holidays, I actually had a pretty good party on my birthday for a couple of years.
Then my parents decided to move to another state. Now, going “home” for Christmas is no longer actually going home. For the past five years, my birthday and the surrounding week have been spent in a foreign town where I have absolutely no friends. That can really put a damper on trying to gather with friends to celebrate.
In order to give me my own, special celebration, we (my immediate family and I) have always celebrated my birthday on Christmas Eve. My “birthday” starts at about 6 p.m., with my favorite dinner, followed by presents and a movie. Before I go into whiner mode, know that I totally appreciate my mom’s efforts in creating the delicious meal, and I truly appreciate the gifts. After that though, my “birthday” is pretty much over. It never occurred to me until recently that I am really getting the short end of the stick with this deal. Come Christmas morning, I get a few Happy Birthdays…and that’s it. When it comes time to cook, clean up, choose a movie or anything, I try to pull rank with it being my birthday and all, only to be met with the response, “It’s not your birthday anymore. We did that last night.” So basically, I am graced with a three-hour birthday on a day that isn’t even my birthday. Hmmmm….
When I think about how much I do to make other people’s birthdays special for them, it really frustrates me to feel like my birthday is treated with less and less importance every year. Theoretically, a birthday should be a person’s opportunity to be queen or king for a day, right? That is how I treat others on their birthday, and it is how I am starting to wish I would be treated on mine. But to actually vocalize that would make me sound like an ungrateful, spoiled brat. We could probably throw self-absorbed in there too, for good measure. So for the last few years, I have thrown around huge hints to my boyfriend and friends, wishing out loud that my birthday could be a bigger deal than it usually is. My secret hopes being that they would throw me a party before or after I headed out to my parents’ for the holidays. Those hints have been futile, making me increasingly bitter with every passing birthday.
With my 30th birthday awaiting me this year, I decided to take matters into my own hands, rather than continue wallowing in self-pity. I asked my family if we could please relocate our Christmas gathering to our hometown, so I could throw myself a party and have friends there. They agreed to do this (thankfully), so I have planned a party for the 26th. So far I have 11 confirmed guests! I also plan to head out to the one open bar on the 25th, in hopes of celebrating on my birthday. After all, who knows how long it will be until that happens again. Basically, I’ve come to the realization that if I want a big deal to be made about my birthday, I’m the one that’s gonna have to make it. Otherwise, I need to accept the card I’ve been dealt, and appreciate the things I do have in life, even if my own special day once a year isn’t one of them. I’m attempting to lose the chip on my shoulder … does it sound like it’s working?
Mom and Son Both Born on Christmas Day
by Kirsten F.
I was born Christmas Day ’75. When I found out that I was pregnant with my first son, I quickly calculated the date due. He was supposed to arrive on the 14th December, but decided to hang on for another 11 days, (much to my horror). So not only am I born on Christmas Day, I had my son the same day and also celebrated my 21st Birthday in hospital.
As to helping other families with similar dilemmas, we celebrate Christmas Day in the morning and celebrate birthdays in the evening. And it’s so true people forget that it is YOUR special day with the hype of the day, but in our house it is known to all who are close to us the Christmas Day ends at Midday and then the Birthday celebrations begin.
I hope that others realize that they have a special day throughout the year!
p.s. My son got us to spend yet another Christmas Day in hospital last year, so that he could have 30 stitches put into his face from fighting with a ceiling fan. (Yes, he lost against the fan.)
I was born on December 25, 1996. One thing that has always been important to me is to say I was born December 25, not Christmas. My mother’s doctor said, “Don’t have this baby on Christmas because I’m on call.” So, sure enough, I had to come at 5:55 p.m. on Christmas Day.
When I left school for Christmas break, my friends said “happy birthday,” not, “merry Christmas.” It also happens to be my first name is Mary. (I go by my middle name, though.)
My mom has recently said her and God are tight because their kids have the same birthday. I like having a Christmas birthday; it makes more people come to my party, which I have before Christmas because their parents drop them off and then they go Christmas shopping.
I have gift overload. People are asking me what I want for my birthday; what I want for Christmas. … Overall, it’s pretty cool.
Too Much Sharing
I was born on Christmas day 1979, right at dinner time! According to my mom, by the time I was born, everyone who was there had left to go eat dinner.
Also, growing up, I remember getting a lot of presents, and my brother was jealous. A downturn to growing up with a Christmas Birthday is that I have three cousins who had birthdays around christmas (January 18, December 19 and December 21), so unfortunately, I had to share a birthday cake with them.
I never got to have a birthday party with friends or pass out cupcakes at school on my birthday. Growing up, I still like it, but I do get the “Merry Christmas,” then “happy birthday.”
The most important thing now is that I always go home for Christmas and get to spend time with my whole family, which I don’t get to see a lot during the year, so that’s nice.
Also, I hate hearing, “oh, a Christmas baby,” when i have to give my birthday and, “Do you get gypped on presents?” I hate hearing those ones! I don’t see my birthday as being any different than anyone else’s, it just happens to fall on Christmas.
Being a Christmas Baby Kinda of Sucks
by Fiona H.
born 25th December 1982
Bexley, Kent, England
Whenever I think back to Christmas when I was a child, that’s exactly what I remember: Christmas! I don’t ever remember it being a birthday, which I think is kinda sad. I remember people’s reaction, same reaction as it is now: When you say your birthday is Christmas Day you get, “Really, Christmas Day, wow! Do you get to have lots of presents or do you only get one, that must be a bit awkward, etc., etc.” and my response is generally the same: “Of course I get to have lots of presents, I would never let people only buy me one.”
Truth is, though, my birthday doesn’t really get remembered, which is ironic seeing the significance of Christmas! I never had birthday parties and as an adult I have never celebrated with my friends. It used to bug me when I was young that everyone else on their birthdays were the only ones who received presents, but on mine everyone gets presents – so unfair! I am used to it now, so It doesn’t bother me as much I guess!
A few things I hate about being a Christmas baby
1. Joint birthday and Christmas presents – annoying and tight
2. Birthday presents wrapped in Christmas paper – just rude
3. Christmas cards with Happy Birthday too in them – how hard is it to buy 2 cards??
4. The “I can’t come out for your birthday as it’s Christmas I have no money, time etc!!!”
5. Saying Merry Birthday – it’s not a clever play on words, trust me!
6. Having to wait a whole year for one day!!!
7. The whole being nicknamed Jesus – not very original
A few things that I like about being a Christmas Baby
1. No matter how you look at it, I am unique it will always fascinate people
2. I never have to work on my Birthday!
3. I was the first Christmas baby that year, in the hospital that I was born! I even had my picture in the paper!! woo-hoo!
And that’s about it …..
As I get older I am not sure if I like celebrating my birthday anyway, so if it goes unnoticed, I suppose it’s not the end of the world. I would like, for once, for my family or friends to organise something nice and special just for my birthday just like I have done for them in he past, no excuses, no Christmas clichés just all about me!!! instead of me having to remind everyone and go on about it for weeks, and them still not getting the hint!! And waking on Christmas Morning, no sorry, birthday morning, disappointed!! Let’s hope this year, people, my 28th Birthday is different!!!!
I know this is all poor me, etc!! but hey I only get one day a year and it’s never all about me, so I am allowed to whinge and my birthday does make me kinda special so there! ; p
No Late Sleeping
by Martin J. Parsons
I was born on Christmas Day 1987. For me, the most annoying thing about it is that I have quite a religious family, and although I myself do not attend church, Christmas morning is church morning for EVERYONE. Thus no birthday lie-in for me! However, there is something highly satisfying about having an entire congregation sing happy birthday after the mass, so I accept it.
I am from England but I have recently moved to France. Due to this, I now get the same oft-heard response to my birthday, but in French. Everytime I sign up for something that requires ID I get “ohhh, un bébé de Noel!”
Tiring Day for Mom
by Cynthia Noel
Yes, I, too, was born on Christmas day. It was 1956. My mother worked herself into fatigue preparing for Christmas Day for my four older sisters. All of the shopping completed; all of the gifts wrapped and under the tree; the meal meticulously prepared and ready to serve. All of the cookies baked and desserts set out to consume.
By noon, my mom was on her way to the hospital. I was her fifth child out of eight,(Irish Catholic) and she Knew what to expect. She was so exhausted that she dozed during some of the labor. I was born in the labor room without a lot of fuss. The doctor wasn’t even around. My mother had no intervention of pain blockers. I arrived the natural way, but in 1956 the doctors don’t like that so much because they want to get paid for doing something. So my poor mom was wheeled to the delivery room and they medicated her with “twilight sleep” after the fact. That made her ill for nearly two days afterwards!
I was told that I was put into a big Christmas stocking by a nurse who also had her birthday on Christmas day and was presented to my mother later that afternoon. She thought it cute but the nausea of the “twilight sleep” took precedent. So that was my first Christmas.
One of my sisters is named Mary. That saved me from being named Merry, I am told. I like my middle name “Noel” however, because throughout my childhood I enjoyed the fact that it was French and that there was a song sung at Christmas with MY name in it!
I had one birthday party on Christmas Eve when I was 7. It was a lot of fun! Most of the kids at the party were my sisters, though. The neighborhood kids were busy with their own family Christmas plans, so my mom was able to grab the grandkids of the woman across the street who were visiting her for Christmas and have them join the party. (A little pathetic, I know.) I remember them because they sang as a duet some beautiful Christmas songs for us. Their voices were glorious and heavenly. I couldn’t carry a tune and had a deep appreciation for those that could! Anyway, that was the birthday that I got the game Mousetrap, which was the highlight of my childhood! In a family of eight kids, to get a new game like that for a gift was a big deal! And it was for my birthday, not for Christmas — and that made it more precious than gold!
I like giving gifts at Christmas and only recently realized that us Christmas birthday people are the only people who must shop and give gifts to others on THEIR OWN birthday! Perhaps it makes us more socially aware, or sensitive to giving. But whatever, it is — special.
Creep with a Card
by Elaine L.
I found your website on fox4news.com. It is the best laugh I’ve had all day! My birthday is December 29th. So it’s smooshed between two holidays. I loved your best and worst things about a Christmas birthday — it is so true!
I wouldn’t trade my birthday for the world. I’ve always considered myself lucky to be born during my favorite time of year but it definately has it’s downsides. I wanted to share one of my more irritating experiences with you.
Years ago I was dating this guy. He had asked me what I wanted for my birthday. Me being the kind and thoughtful person I was just told him I wanted a card from him (thinking I’d get one of those really mushy “love you cards”). To my dissapointment, the card I received read, (front of card) “Thinking of you at Christmas time” (inside of card) “and wishing you a happy new year” Then he wrote “happy birthday”
All I could think was, I can’t even get a freaking birthday card from this guy?!?!?!?! Needless to say we did not stay together very long after that.