Remember when 30 sounded so impossibly ancient you could never imagine being that old? Well here it is...or was, I should say. This time last year I thought about a trip for my 30th birthday...Vegas, or a cruise, somewhere fun and exciting and youthful and NOT 30. Shortly after some preliminary plans, I found out I was expecting, and realized I'd either spend my 30th birthday pregnant, in labor or nursing. And really, it didn't sound so bad. What's so scary about turning 30? I honestly can't remember. I wonder what my 20-year-old self thought I'd have accomplished at 30? If I think back, I vaguely remember the idea of having my Masters and living somewhere near my fabulous friends, working and certainly not being married. 30-year-old me is pretty proud to have accomplished my Bachelor's degree, having lived in Germany for almost five years, being a wife, mother of two and a homeowner by 30.
The day passed with little fanfare, as I was nearing the end of my maternity leave. I had phone calls and texts and cards, my parents came by with lunch, but mostly I spent the day in my own house with my sweet family. I didn't look for new gray hairs or wrinkles, or lament about the wild things I forgot to do before I turned 30. Maybe it's 30, or motherhood, or five + years of marriage, or my awesome friends and family, but there's a contentment that comes with knowing how to love, and in being loved. In the end, that's what it all comes down to. Because when I pictured a big trip for my birthday, the destination mattered not as much as who was with me. The Class of '04 said it best in our Fall Fest '03 sister song..."In the end I wanna be standing at the beginning with you."
So here's to 30. I still want to go to Vegas. But what a great early birthday present I received in my sweet little Lila.
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