So, I wrote this post in the order I thought it through, and you’re going to think I’m either (a) crazy; (b) sleep deprived; or (c) that I have serious attention issues. I went back and read it when I was all done and thought “Lawd, what is wrong with me?” Bear with me… I’m keeping it as is because let’s be real, I don’t have the time or the will to reorganize it into something that makes sense. And that’s all she wrote.
Today is my 32nd birthday!
I was asked the other day how it feels to be turning 32, and it honestly doesn’t feel any different. 32 isn’t really a milestone birthday. It’s one that comes and goes, and is just kind of there.
Can I make a confession?
I don’t feel 32.
Quite often, I feel like a young girl in my 20s, hopeful for a future of babies, telling myself “you’ve got plenty of time!” When I was a 20-something, I was convinced I’d be all done popping out babies by the time I hit 30. The thought of having babies in my 30s was foreign to me and a “surely not”.
And yet here I am. I’m 32… and my family of 3 still feels like someone is missing.