I began this blog with a post about turning another year older. At the time, I was coming to terms with the fact that birthdays aren’t all that special. I had found a gray hair (I’ve only grown 2 or 3 more since), and I felt older, eager to get on with my life. Which actually meant, “I want to start having kids, dang it.” I had dreams of being a young mom and time was ticking. Or, really it felt like time was up on that particular dream (dramatic, but it still feels true).
I think my 24 year old self would be very excited (and relieved) to hear that in just a mere two years, she’d be fulfilling that goal of becoming a young mother. Even though I’m not in my early twenties anymore, I am still pretty dang young for a mom-to-be. (Is this a strange way to share that I’m pregnant? So it goes. I’ve been meaning to gush all about my first trimester, since most of it was spent in isolation, but I’m still exhausted in the evenings after work. Soon.)
I digress. I really just came here to share that although birthdays don’t entitle you to a perfect day where everyone does what you want and everything’s free (that’s my ideal day, apparently), they’re still a good time to reflect on how far you’ve come in the past year, how much you’ve accomplished, and just how utterly blessed you are.
Photo is from my big birthday outing last year with ten of my closest friends. I’m the one awkwardly waving to the camera while everyone else enjoys their ice cream.