It's my birthday today, and I promised myself I wouldn't dwell on anything sad. Today was reserved for movies, and margaritas and friends and chocolate. So I'll allow myself just a moment of honesty before returning to my celebratory day. That's not dwelling, is it? Not if you just allow yourself a fleeting second to consider what a new year will bring?
I am not ready to be a year older. I know 29 might not seem old to most people.
"Still in your twenties! So young! So much time!" everyone replies to me, dismissing my fears and insecurities with incredible speed.
But those of us facing fertility roadblocks don't necessarily have a lot of time. Every month counts. Every month our chances decrease.
This sounds very negative, but all I really mean to say is - I'm just not ready to get any older. I'm not ready for the challenge to get any larger. I thought by 28 I'd be pregnant and 29 be a mother. And now we have absolutely no idea when, or if, that will happen.
How naive we all are when we are younger, planning out our lives as if they were something we could plan. As if we could CHOSE when to have children. I wish I had known better then to plan better now. Sigh. Some things are just in the category of too little, too late. Baby planning, it seems, is one of those.
So I'm not ready to be 29 - one year closer to thirty - because it only means more difficulty. And wasn't this year difficult and heartbreaking enough?
But who knows, maybe this year will be my miracle year. Maybe everything will work out and go right and something amazing will happen.
Maybe, just maybe, 29 will be the best year yet. And then I won't mind being another year older.
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