I’m going to be 29 this year.
I’m not where I expected myself to be.
Truth be told, I should have had at least two kids by now. I should be conducting my own house by now. My husband and I shouldn’t still be squabbling over the dishes, because we should have figured it out by now. But I’m realizing, I’m not as old as I thought I would be by now…
When you’re a kid, 30 seems astronomically old. Everyone talks about this “internal biological clock,” and you start to feel fear over something you don’t yet understand. What I’m beginning to understand is this biological clock is really based more on how old you feel. I’m being perfectly serious. The doctors can’t dictate when you’re ready to be a mother or father. They base their entire system off averages and statistics, but statistics mean nothing to the individual. I personally know women (plural) who had perfectly healthy babies in their 40’s.
Maybe things didn’t happen the way you planned when you were twelve and dreaming up your life. So what? We are in the here and now.
And that is a miracle.
This has been,