I have not loved aging these last few years. I’ve fought my thirties a bit along the way, and I wrote it off as nerves around getting older. But I think I finally put my finger on it, and I’ve decided not to dislike my thirties anymore.
I gave birth to Waverly four weeks before I turned 30. My fifth child just snuck into my 20s. And I loved that!
I spent the next year conceiving constantly, and miscarrying constantly. I had a chemical pregnancy at least every other month.
The next year, I stopped conceiving, except for the couple of exceptions that I lost.
Then came covid.
Then Brady’s surgery, and two months of being apart.
And then an entire year of chemo.
And only then settling into all the change that came with a newly paralyzed husband.
The last few years, my thirties, have been HARD. Like, NUTS.
Yet…
My thirties held my last biological baby years.
They’ve held my friendship with Cher, my dear sister.
They’ve held family together time during covid that we never would’ve had otherwise.
They’ve held Kinasao.
They’ve held the best years of my marriage, and the strongest years of my faith.
They’ve held the beginning of being a foster family.
Bottom line – the years have been loaded, and I wouldn’t trade them. There has of course been loss; plenty I haven’t even mentioned in these quick lists. But the gains are positively beautiful, and now I can see that a bit clearer. These difficult years could’ve started at any time in my life. It’s irrelevant what year it kicked off in.
So. Forward we go! In faith and in glory strength! There is more on the horizon and we are here for it!
Thirty five feels ok. Better than the last few, for sure. I’m very grateful to be where I am, with who I am. For that, I praise the Lord.