A family get together this weekend had me thinking about my upcoming birthday at the end of the month. I will be 32. My husband just turned 37 towards the end of June. Man, we’re getting old. As we all gathered around poolside and watched the kids splash and play in the water, the conversation turned from social norms to the 3 month old baby in attendance. “Jess, go and see the baby. Isn’t he cute?” As I approached the little infant in his stroller, I felt as if all eyes were on me. Yes, he was cute. He had beautiful brown eyes, those perfectly soft baby cheeks and chubby thighs you just want to pinch. I muttered a “Yes, he’s very sweet” and stared at him until I felt it was appropriate to walk away and reclaim my seat. I knew what was coming.
The discussion turned to my being “next in line” to have a bundle of joy of my own. “Jess must hold the baby before she leaves!” I avoided this with flying colors. I felt enough pressure on me within that conversation alone. I didn’t want to have the pressure of holding a stranger’s brand new baby on me. To me, holding someone else’s baby is like getting into someone else’s brand new car for the first time. I’m always afraid of leaving a scratch or dent. I must have seemed uninterested–or uncomfortable–enough to have the conversation turn to the mother of the playful brood (5 in total, give or take a kid). I learned she was 36 when she had her first. Her last was born in her early 40’s. I looked to my husband and said, “Don’t get any ideas. I’m not waiting four years.”
As I approach year 32, I am thankful for the many wonderful, positive things my 30’s have brought into my life thus far. As year 31 comes to an end, I feel more comfortable in my role as a wife and homemaker. I feel more comfortable in my own skin, my own beliefs and have obtained a surge of confidence in certain aspects of my life. I have been approached with new opportunities that advance my path to achieving a dream of mine. We’re no longer preventing the possibility of becoming parents. I know the journey to parenthood comes with patience and I’ve found that and have accepted that sometimes parenthood doesn’t work out for certain couples. I’ve accepted that if parenthood isn’t a chosen path for us, I still have a man who supports me no matter what I bring to the table. I’m happy to know that at the end of the day he is the other half of this little two-part family, for now or forever.
Hey, 32–take things as they come, okay? No pressure.
|A photo of my handsome-face and me at another family gathering this weekend.|