I'm turning 30 in less than two weeks.
My feelings on the matter are completely two directional. Which seems to be my modus operandi lately. I don't know if I've ever felt two distinctly different ways at the same time before. It's complicated.
On the one hand, I'm not afraid of 30. I have never thought of 30 as being old, I don't feel a mid-life crisis coming on and getting older doesn't frighten me. I do think the things I've learned in the past decade have made me a better human being, but I wouldn't discount someone in their early 20's, either. Age is, as they say, just a number.
On the other hand, getting married at 19, I did expect a few things to have happened by 30 that haven't. While I am grateful for my life, I would not have guessed that at 30, I would be in a second adoption wait. I had hoped to be a published composer by this point-- but with the current trajectory of my life I don't see that ever happening.
I am very happy with my life. I'm also feeling pretty broken right now.
I am so happy to have married Jim, I am so happy to be a mom of my amazing son, I love my home, I love the people I am connected with, I am grateful for my dogs and my life. I feel like I have grown as a person. I enjoy my hobbies, I am confident in my interests. I am in the best physical shape of my life.
I still have things I want to accomplish-- some that I'm working well towards and others that I'm struggling. There are things I want to do that I don't, and things I don't want to do that I do. I would like to be better at the things I am working towards (better at living simply, better at eating healthy, more consistently reading my bible, always being the best mom possible). Sometimes, it can really be a point of stress, being a determined goal setter.
I am sad. I was ready for a second child the moment Josiah smiled at me. I was not ready to have to wait until he was a year old (home study and adoption agency guideline across the board) to start the process again. I was not ready for a second adoption wait. For Jim and I, the wait, the hoops, the pain, they are necessary to grow our family. I remind myself every day that it will all be worth it, but every day it worries me and it hurts.
I'm in a state of impatiently waiting. As if it were going on the market soon, I keep my house clean in case we have to leave last minute (and I don't want the dog sitter to have to walk in on a mess). My laundry stays caught up almost daily because, if we have to leave, we have to pack quickly. My phone stays by my side, even though I don't like having it as a temptation and distraction. I am in a constant state of planning for the "just in case". Not signing up to volunteer for things in case we won't be there (I hope people don't mind us just showing up!) and when I do say yes it is with a caveat. My heart is filled with hope that it might be coming soon and dismay that it might not.
So I am happy, stressed, sad, and impatient as I enter my 30s.
In less than two weeks, Lord willing, I will turn the big 3-0. Maybe I'll wake up with more wisdom on June 1. Maybe I'll wake up with a gray hair. Or maybe, I'll still just be trying to better myself and waiting for the adoption call that will complete our family. Most likely that.
