And, oddly, it is not hitting me at all.
25 hit me hard, not 30. And now not 35. Probably because at 25 I was single with very little direction in my life. I had a good teaching job, but my life direction wasn't all that "meaningful". I really think I had a good direction, just that I was doing a lot of motions.
At 30, I'd met the love of my life.....and while things were really rocky at first and it's taken a good five years to get him nearly trained, I knew my life had a new meaning.
Two years later, I got even more meaning in my life. The most important one to date. Duck. I love my Duck. Even though he's been whiny, crabby, and every other word is "help" or "owie" I love him to pieces.
This year? This year?
When Eric and I started having difficulty getting pregnant late last year, we decided that my birthday was our cut off. Then when we saw the RE, we opted for December. In the back of my mind, though, it was still my birthday. I wanted to be pregnant by the time I turned 35.
Sure enough, our last month before moving on to fertility drugs, I got that BIG FAT POSITIVE!
So, as I reach birthday number 35, I welcome it. I'm not getting older, just better.