Today is my 31st birthday.
A year ago, I was turning 30, and ready to embrace all of the amazing things this new decade in my life would hold.
Until life had other plans, and my 30th birthday did not go as planned.
Unfortunately, this was just a preview into the way the rest of the year would go as my husband searched for a new job, we sold our house, we moved 10 hours away from Richmond and made a temporary home in a 2 bedroom apartment. None of it was easy; the job search was a disaster, our house unexpectedly sold in 3 days, leaving Richmond and my job was much harder than any of us thought it would be, and our move turned out to be a move from hell. One for the books, really.
The past year was a lot more about surviving than living, and when you are struggling just to SURVIVE, it’s hard to remember to write about living. Because trying to get through each day isn’t the same as enjoying and reflecting on each day.
In the midst of it all I was pregnant, and I felt guilty about not ever writing about this pregnancy. But pregnancy takes a toll on you emotionally and physically in ways you can’t really describe. I didn’t write about this pregnancy because I didn’t have time to focus on it in the midst of our entire lives changing. And it’s strange to talk about pregnancy after a miscarriage because instead of a celebration it feels like a secret you have to protect. And for me, the trauma of my first pregnancy bleed so strongly into this one that I couldn’t tell where one stopped and the other began. Five years apart and still emotionally scarred, I didn’t feel like writing about the deepest fears and secrets of my motherhood, or admitting how much I hate being pregnant even though I know I lucky I am to get to carry my children.
So I dropped the blog and lost some freelance work (bad move) and let the laundry and the dishes pile up and in the midst of every single faucet of my life changing in the past year, I simply survived it. Every day.
I didn’t write during the year of my life that had the best stories. And maybe that was a mistake, but telling stories about fear and things going wrong and changing every day don’t feel like stories, that feels like complaining. It didn’t feel worth it to document months worths of complaints.
But today, I am in a much different place than I was a year ago. We sold our home. We moved to GA. I stopped working and let go of my usually stringent to-do lists. My husband started a new job. My son started a new school. We are making due with a 2 bedroom apartment. My oldest turned 5. I survived my pregnancy and my delivery and we have a beautiful one month old baby boy. And for every second that I hated my pregnancy I am loving every second of being a new mommy, and getting to be a mommy again has been indescribably healing. Though I hope to try to describe it, because it’s much easier to reflect and tell a story than it is to narrate while you are in the middle of it.
Thirty is over. One of my dear friends texted me today and said her money is on 31. Mine too, sweet friend. I’m ready to take it back. Because as much as I hated the last year of my life and as much as my life is not perfect right now, I am, in this moment, completely in love with it. All of it.
I celebrated turning 31 by taking my baby to the doctor for his one month appointment where I learned that he is already 12 pounds, 2 ounces, and in the 95th percentile! Then I took the time to put on make up and do my hair (a luxury for new mommies.) My husband and son bought me beautiful flowers and my 5 year old drew me the sweetest card. We attempted our first dinner out as a family and made it a full 45 minutes before the littles had to go home. My 31st birthday was uneventful and completely child focused and absolutely perfect.
Here’s to 31. This is going to be a good year.