This past week I celebrated my 39th birthday. Does anyone else feel like it’s a little trippy owning up to a number like that?! I swear just yesterday I was 15, and my mom and her friends were 39. Alas, it is my turn.
This year rounds out the next decade of my life. As I reflected on that, I couldn’t help but take a few moments to review my 30s – everything I’ve done and how they’ve changed me.
My 20s were about self-discovery.
They were a decade of change. Like many, I moved away from home and the bubble that was my small-town Idaho life. New experiences came as I attended college. I lived in Brazil for 15 months, learning a new language and culture. I laughed. I cried, met life-long friends and chose a career. To cap it off, I found my life partner, married him and we began our family. My 20s were a decade for me to learn who I wanted to be and what I wanted for my life.
My 30s have been less about me.
It didn’t take much reflection to realize that the defining feature of my 30s is my family. During these past nine years, we’ve added three beautiful souls to our family, rounding out to four babies. Much of my life has been about them.
To be honest, I’ve lost a lot of myself.
As a teacher, I remember one day a student came to speak to me. She was writing an article for the school newspaper that highlighted a few of the teachers and wanted some information. With all the nonchalance of a middle school girl, she asked, “What are your hobbies?” I’m pretty sure I just stared at her dumbfounded with no answer. I worked, took care of my family, and always wanted more sleep.
In the thick of early motherhood, as I was waking with a baby six times and night and spending most of my days in a zombie-like state wondering how long it’d been since I’d last showered and how effective deodorant actually is against body odor, it was hard to remember that I was a person as well. Even when I got a small moment to remember, I had no energy to care about what I should be doing for myself. My time was not my own. Not a minute of it. I was lucky to have a caring husband, but if we are honest, his time was just as wrapped up in caring for our small family as mine was. It’s not lost on me that some of our greatest blessings can also be our greatest trials.
In the film Alice in Wonderland, the Mad Hatter makes the following statement to Alice: “You’re not the same as you were before. You used to be much more muchier. You’ve lost your muchness.” As silly as that is, I feel it whole-heartedly in regards to my early parenthood and early 30s. I lost my muchness to dinosaur onesies and baby swaddles.
My 30s gave me a different muchness.
First, they gave me much love. I had good parents and always “knew” they loved me, but before I was one myself, that knowledge was much more superficial. How can one know the sacrifices made in caring of another until you’ve actually experienced it? I understand my parents’ love on a deeper level. Not only that, but I have four other beautiful beings who love with the intensity that only a child can muster. They love hard, and it is a beautiful gift.
In the security of a loving family, I’ve used my later 30s to take a few leaps, chasing dreams that until now have only been vague desires. I began to write, really and sincerely sit down and write. My children are not only my inspiration, but they have great imaginations and ideas. They are my biggest cheerleader in much the same way that I wish to be theirs. I’ve tried my hand at baking and lifting weights, knowing with each added attempt that I had a supportive safety net that wouldn’t be possible if I hadn’t given so much of myself to them in their early years.
