Thirty

Woah. It's my 30th birthday. Today. Like right now (well 9:01am to be exact). I'm also 30 weeks pregnant. Coincidence? You bet.

I am a person who possesses major birthday anxiety. It has nothing to do with age, and everything to do with the pressure of a day all about me. Today though, I'm feeling pretty calm. Perhaps it's because I know it's going to be a pretty busy day and not very birthday-ish (not to worry, Nick has planned a celebration for me this weekend).

Confession: last summer I may have made a statement that if I wasn't pregnant by the time I turned 30, I would be hiding in a corner, wallowing in self pity. Let it be known that it has nothing to do with me believing that you must have children by age 30. Actually, 2013 was a hard year for me because of some extreme baby fever (I'll share that story another day). Anyway, since I am pregnant on my birthday, I feel as though I accomplished that strange goal I set out and maybe that's why I'm taking such a scary year in stride. Who the heck knows.

All I know is, I don't plan on crying today (unlike last night every other birthday), so obviously that's the new thirty-year-old maturity I have now acquired.

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