Friday was my 30th birthday.
It’s strange, I’ve never really been one to get too upset about birthdays, but I did feel rather wobbly on Thursday night and Friday morning. I could always put it down to pregnancy hormones, I suppose, but quite apart from that, I think there’s something about 30 that does make you think.
It’s the kind of age that you think about and have ideas of where you’d like to be. I mean, obviously this varies from year to year. Last week, I was fairly sure I’d be in pretty much the position I was in on my 30th. But when I was younger, I had all these ideas of how life was going to work out.
Some of them have happened and some haven’t.
What I haven’t done by my 30th birthday
Let’s see, some of my dreams were:
- I’d have had children by now. I’m working on this one, obviously. And technically I do have a child, just not a born one yet. I’m not exactly upset about this, because I know why we didn’t try for a baby earlier. And if any earlier baby wouldn’t have been this one. And I love this particular baby.
- I’d have a more successful career – or be independently wealthy and not need to work. Okay, so the “independently wealthy” idea was always a long shot. I’m not too sure how I pictured it happening. Maybe a lottery win? Or perhaps I was going to write an amazing novel and be a fabulously published author by now. Either way, it didn’t happen. I have a job I quite enjoy, colleagues I get on with, we have enough money to get by, and while I do have some career hopes and dreams for the future, I suppose I’m averagely content with where I am on this one. It would be nice to have a bit more spare cash, but maybe that’ll come in the future.
- I’d be calmer. Small things still irritate me. Bad drivers. Birds singing and waking me up. Whistling. That sort of thing. I really hoped I’d be over this by now, because it certainly doesn’t make me happy! I also thought I’d be over a lot of my fears – instead, I seem to be picking up new ones. Developing a fear of needles during pregnancy is a great idea, brain.
- I’d have more friends. At school I had a fairly large crowd of friends and we thought we’d be there forever. (Spoiler alert: doesn’t always happen.) I found some more amazing friends at uni, and to be fair, we do keep in touch very well, considering we live all across the country. But I don’t have many local friends that I can just call up for a chat, or anyone who’ll pop in for a visit. I mainly have my husband and my parents. Also, my husband is some sort of friend-making genius, which does make me feel worse about it.
- I’d be more generally “together”. It’s hard to put exactly what I mean into words. I thought I’d be able to do things like easily keep on top of the laundry, fold a fitted sheet, have a clean house all the time, not feel stressed when parking the car, that sort of thing. But I’ve come to realise that maybe all of the adults who looked like they had it together when I was younger were all pretending. We’re all just putting on an act, aren’t we?
But in general, it’s best to focus on the good. And there is a lot of good in my life.
What I have done by my 30th birthday
- Married my best friend. Yes, he drives me crazy from time to time, but he’s generally a rather nice chap. Living with anyone would have been an adjustment, let alone starting a family and dealing with all of the general crap that goes on in daily life, but there’s no one I’d rather have tackled it with than him. We are about to embark on a new adventure and I’m nervous but excited. We can do this.
- Bought a house. We chose to live in an area with a very low cost of living and low house prices. It might not be the most glamorous of towns but we like it. We paid our deposit through an inheritance and my living at home with my parents and saving like mad until I was 27. But we can see ourselves staying here for the forseeable future. We love our house.
- I got two degrees. I studied English Language as an undergraduate and then did an MA in Journalism, and did well in both, although I didn’t enjoy the journalism course one bit. But it did lead on to the next one:
- I have a job. I know this sort of falls under both categories. But I am employed and I do quite enjoy what I do. I’ve been there for over six years at this point so it can’t be too bad, I suppose!
- Passed my driving test. Learning to drive scared me, but I did it. I’ve just passed the sixth anniversary of passing my test, and driving has given me a lot of freedom.
- I have three beautiful rabbits. And we’ve nursed them through some serious illnesses, and quite honestly kept them alive when other people might not have persevered. Ned in particular. I look at them and feel proud.
- My body has grown and carried a baby nearly to term. We’re nearly there – 35 weeks! I’m proud of how my body has done this.
How do I feel now?
So, a couple of days after my 30th birthday, and having experienced a few days of actually being the scary age, I feel okay about it.
On my actual birthday, my husband brought me breakfast in bed, and then we played a nice competitive game of Scrabble before getting on with the day.
I spent the day with my mum, where we developed an unhealthy addiction to watching Yummy Mummies on ITV – seriously, we went through three episodes in one afternoon!
Then my husband and I went to my favourite restaurant that evening to celebrate, and ate ourselves absolutely silly. Probably our last chance for a night out before baby! And we need to save the pennies now. But it was nice to celebrate and spend an evening together, even if it did end with us both feeling uncomfortably full!
And then I rounded off the day with rabbit cuddles and a long candlelit bath, just me and baby and a book. It was all very low-key and relaxing, which is what I need right now that I’m approximately 7536 weeks pregnant!
To be honest, it feels absolutely no different to being 29. I’m not sure what my wobble was about!
Have you felt like this over a milestone birthday? What happened?