I think I've reached the age. 27. This is it. This is where you stop telling people your age. I always thought I'd grow old gracefully, but here I am, an old lady, in my LATE 20's, and I am swearing to never again tell my age. *sigh*
I'm totally kidding! Yes, I have transitioned into my late 20's, but I feel great! I'm stronger than I ever have been, and honestly I still feel like I'm 17.
Thank you to everyone who wished me a happy birthday on Facebook. I felt so loved yesterday! I am honored that you guys even remember who I am! Seriously, I thought I had long since been forgotten by some of you. Sure, Facebook reminds you of everyone's birthday, but that doesn't mean you HAVE to stop by and acknowledge it! Awesome! I had a wonderful day, and you helped make it even more special. Thank you.
This year was easier than last year. My 26th birthday was tough. I had a pity party for most of the day. It was my first birthday as a mom, and I was listening WAY too much to what the World was telling me about how I should be at 26. I SHOULD have been in a successful profession; I SHOULD have been finished with my Master's degree (TWO years prior, might I add); I SHOULD have been out partying with my friends, and I SHOULD have been free, unencumbered, and happy. I WAS NOT any of these things. I was sad, lonely, taking antidepressants for PPD and spending alllllllllll day with a 9-month old infant. I was changing diapers, breastfeeding, listening to crying and putting down for naps. I think I cried on and off for a good 12 hours.
Last year I had no idea that in a year, this year on my birthday, I would be doing this:
On Tuesday, I was told to rush my son to the doctor (now 40 minutes away) because his respirations were high--he breathed 26 times in 15 seconds. He was coughing, sneezing, and wanted nothing to do with toys, snacks, or books. So rush him I did. After a breathing treatment in the office, we were sent across the street to the hospital for X-Rays, and when we arrived back at the doctor's office, the doctor, with complete surprise in his voice, informed me that Zeke had the very beginning stages of pneumonia. So we left with a prescription for Albuteral, a nebulizer, and antibiotics. What scared me the most is when the nurse asked the doctor outside of our room, "are we admitting him to the hospital?" and the doctor said, "not yet." Ummm excuse me? Not WHAT?!
So this year, on my birthday, I snuggled my little boy. This amazing little person who, last year, cried and pooped and nursed and spit up, this year needed my love and attention, and some medical intervention. I was so thankful on my birthday to have him, and to be at home, not in a hospital. In the last year (really, in the last 4 months, since moving to Missouri) I have learned to enjoy him and relate to him in new ways. We have carved out our own little relationship and we are doing better than ever before. Maybe someday on my birthday I WILL have a successful career, my master's degree, or SOMETHING. Who knows? But this year, I am just SO thankful for my little family. Especially my little boy.