Happy Birthday to Me

I'm writing this post on the eve of my, ahem, thirty-ninth birthday. That was not as painful as I anticipated. Writing my almost age, that is. Normally, the idea of getting older is a bit of a slap in the face. I suppose it has to do mostly with the whole fertility thing and wanting more children. Not so much about the gray sparkling silver hairs that have started becoming noticeable, if only to myself. 

I don't look like this anymore.

Something I never really understood is that you never really feel old. Well, until someone happens to say something that contradicts that like their birth year and you think, my gosh, I was thirteen when he/she was born. Ouch.

I love when people remember my birthday. Who doesn't? However, I must admit something. One of my first birthday moments was about the age of four. I remember sitting around the kitchen table with friends/family (not sure) when my mom brought in a cake singing happy birthday. Yay, right? No. I covered my face or ears with my hands and sank under the table refusing to come out. I guess your personality really stays with you for your whole life. 

Don't mind the "wallpaper" haha.
I've come to realize I need to be thankful for my age. Thankful in general really. Some people don't get to grow older. Some people don't even have the one child they long for. I have been blessed so very much and I would not change a thing about the life God has given me. 

Thirty-nine is just the beginning.
That realization is the best present I could ask for.

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