A Ritual of Love: Birthday Cakes Over the Years

I’m not a trained baker, but I’ve made every one of my daughters’ birthday cakes by hand. Each year, it’s become a quiet ritual—one that marks not just their growth, but mine. It’s a creative way I express love, celebrate family, and stay grounded in what matters: presence, intention, and a little edible beauty.

Take a walk through our cakery memory lane—and maybe find some inspiration for your own simple traditions.

Making these cakes has also been part of unraveling my inner mother. After giving birth, I felt lost. I needed pillars—something tangible that could help me root into this new identity. Cakes are simple, familiar, even standard. But my commitment to how I made them—slow, intentional, from scratch—became a container for my authentic mother-self to emerge.

What started as a sweet gesture became sacred. And five years later, I still show up for it.

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