Celebrating Self-Advocacy: A Different Kind of Birthday Win

Birthdays. A time of celebration and joy—a day that is just yours, when the world pauses to celebrate how wonderful it is because you are in it.

But the night before Dawson’s eleventh birthday, I lay in bed with him—his final request as a ten-year-old. As we talked, I asked if he was excited for his birthday. He let out an exasperated sigh before answering.

“Mom, how can I be excited for something I’ve never experienced? Turning eleven is very stressful. I have no idea who I’ll be as an eleven-year-old, and I don’t want to give up being ten just yet.”

His stress surprised me. I had asked the question with one answer in mind—joy, excitement, anticipation. Instead, his feelings were big, just not in the way I expected.

I’ve come to learn that big emotions—good or bad—are still big emotions. They can be overwhelming and dysregulating, even when the event itself is positive. For him, birthdays felt exactly like that. He loved being seen and celebrated, but when an entire day was dedicated solely to him, it became too much.

I was proud of him for expressing how he felt and allowing me to understand the true depth of his emotions. I can honestly say I had never considered the abstract nature of birthdays: you go to sleep one night, and when you wake up, you are suddenly a new age—full of unknowns. For Dawson, that concept alone was enough to leave him restless on that February night.

The next morning, we woke him by singing “Happy Birthday.” He appreciated the small gesture and moved into his daily routine. He went to school, came home, skipped chores—one of his only birthday requests—and then came the time of day when people get off work and want to call.

When his Nana texted to see if he was available to talk, he did something incredibly impressive, mature, and very 'eleven-year-old'.

He told her no.

He shared that he wanted some time to just chill—his phrase for decompressing—and that he would talk to her later.

When she told me, I was so proud of him. We talk often about self-advocacy: asking for what you need, sharing how you feel, and being honest so others can support you. And on an overwhelming day, he was able to do exactly that with an adult.

What mattered most wasn’t how much we celebrated him, but that he felt safe enough to ask for what he needed on a day that felt bigger than he was ready for.

I think birthdays often get lost in tradition, and we forget the uncertainty that comes with them. Yes, there are songs, parties, gifts, and celebrations—but there is also a new year. Only 365 days at this age before you go to sleep and wake up ready to try on a new one.

Every day, I am amazed by how he helps me understand the world in a new way. How he can take a tradition so deeply ingrained in our culture and invite me to see it with fresh wonder, curiosity, and appreciation.

Cheers to eleven, Dawson. May it be a year full of love, joy, and moments of self-advocacy.