"I began planning my daughter’s first birthday when she was 9 months old. I asked my husband for theme ideas, and he jokingly suggested a “Dolly Parton” theme. It was a perfect fit. We affectionately called her “Dolly Farton” because she loved music and habitually passed gas. And with that, my obsession with planning her first birthday party began.
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It bloomed on TikTok, where I searched “first birthday ideas” and wrote an extensive list of birthday favors: disco balls, hot pink cowgirl hats that served as fruit platters, disco ball cake toppers, pink houndstooth tablecloths, ranunculus yellow flowers in white vases, ’70s serving trays, donuts decorated with fake daisies, fringe made with tiny rhinestones that could wrap around a glass of lemonade. The list injected me with excitement.
Choosing a First Birthday Party Theme
I wrote, “Dolly Parton disco meets prairie picnic,” on the top of a piece of paper. I ordered her a pair of hot pink sequin flare pants from Etsy and a pink leotard with fringe. I found personalized invites that read, “Parton Me, Lila is One,” with a personalized pink cassette that said, “Lila’s First Birthday.” My friend stitched a confetti-knit birthday crown with her name on the front. I ordered customized cookies that were little jean jackets with Dolly’s hair. I bought the month-by-month banners and ordered a canvas print of Lila wearing her crown.
After hours of perusing TikTok under the “best first birthday gifts” search tab, I made a birthday wish list on Amazon. The list included ball pits, Montessori toys, blocks, tennis shoes, tea sets, foam blocks, magnetic tiles, push cars, wooden food, and a soft pink canvas tent with lights.
Planning My Daughter’s First Birthday Party
Every day, I set aside an hour to let my creativity glow. I invested $50 in stamps for the invites, each one a unique design. I printed a QR code for her birthday wish list, a modern twist to stuff the envelopes. I ordered personalized cookies and shared dozens of inspirational photos with the baker. I scoured thrift stores for unique cake trays and tapers, finding hidden gems. I envisioned balloon walls, glitter, and a beautiful little white cake adorned with real flowers for a baby smash cake. And because everyone loves Dolly Parton, I even arranged for a miniature pony to dress as her and join the party.
I realize this sounds a lot like an MTV episode of My Super Sweet 16. But the project filled me with so much energy and joy, I couldn’t resist. I hadn’t felt this type of passion since before having Lila, and I wanted to bottle it up in a mason jar and sell it on Etsy for every woman in the world. It was a delightful high. Where was it coming from?
Making Space to Celebrate Myself, Too
I had an urge to celebrate myself. I found that urge buried in my chest like a rare fossil of a past self. My baby’s first birthday was a motherhood milestone. The truth was that Lila wasn’t going to remember her first birthday. It was something I would remember. And it was a “hats off” to everything that broke me and fed me in the year prior. A lot did.
“I realize this sounds a lot like an MTV episode of ‘My Super Sweet 16.’ But the project filled me with so much energy and joy, I couldn’t resist.”
The long nights, the out-of-body unlearning of myself, the fear, the immense joy, the millions of questions I spouted to my husband in the middle of the night, the wretched darkness of the unknown. Postpartum bent me backward. Watching her grow slowly sculpted me into a new form of myself. I was in the “My Super Sweet One Year of Motherhood” era: I deserved a party and the disco balls.
Baby’s First Birthday is a Motherhood Milestone
First birthdays are for mothers. I write this with the purest confidence I’ve ever known. We are supposed to go big and enjoy a theme. It’s a celebration of completing the first year of motherhood—of who we’ve become and who we’ve left behind.
From what I assume to be survival, I’ve daydreamed about Lila’s first birthday for a long time. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit this, but something about the milestone felt strangely comforting. In the depths of those hard nights, I knew we could make it.
A birthday cake with candles dashing eagerly around her face was a fantasy I couldn’t help reeling in. Because it also meant that I had made it. I made it out of the nerves, her first time sleeping the night, her first week at daycare, her first ear infection, her first tooth, her first fall. I made it out of the postpartum blues, my first time away from her for a weekend, feeling inadequate, feeling mediocre, my first week back at work, the tiredness.
Looking Back on My First Year of Motherhood
I owe everything to my first year of motherhood. I experienced something new and understood the tenderness of that strange time. In a way, I’d been newly born, too: learning to feed myself, crawl, sleep, and see the world again. Everything was different now, and I had to relearn everything.
My long list of first birthday accessories, decorations, party favors, and desserts is a silent ode to the grand relearning. I’ve made it! I deserve the joy. Celebrating and planning every intricacy to the best of my gallant abilities is a part of the fun.
As we celebrate our children’s first birthdays, sitting in their highchairs adorned with banners and streamers, mothers are right there amid it all, one year older. A baby’s first birthday marks a motherhood milestone. Mothers will be singing, reflecting on a year of change that passed by in a blur of colors, a mix of sorrow and happiness they experienced from head to toe. They will be singing for their babies and themselves. They’ve made it. We’ve made it.
