Written April 28th-May 2nd, 2024

As I approach turning 30 this week, I feel something shifting in me. 

I’ve been dreading this milestone all year, fearing that I’ll no longer be viewed as “young” and that I’ll be categorized as “older”. I’ve white-knuckled this life transition for some time now, being frustrated when I became a mom with the loss of the carefree and fun elements of my former self. I’ve resented the responsibilities, at times, sensing that becoming a mom would forever take away my youth and replace it with a boring, overweight, and unappealing identity. 

All of this may or may not actually be true, but I imagine other moms out there have felt some of these same sentiments. 

Each successive decade has been marked by particular emotions and experiences…my first being both childlike fun and then extremely chaotic, my second being filled with high highs and low lows. But my most recent decade of life has perhaps been the most transformative thus far. 

I think back on that newly-turned-21-year-old, eager to finally experience adulthood in all its glory. 

I remember the girl who married the kindest man I’d ever met at age 23, the same year I graduated with a master’s degree and published a book. 

I remember everything shifting when a world pandemic happened the same year I gave birth to my first child, birthing a new personality of “mom” I never knew existed in myself, when I was 26. 

Amidst the delight, there was sleeplessness. There was hopelessness in the many nights of despair, wondering why my child was so difficult when most everyone else I knew seemed to love being a newborn mom. There was loneliness in how our once-tight-knit community dismantled, and I found myself longing for the friendships I had in my pre-kid life and not seeing a way back to that. Despite my son being my greatest achievement in my life thus far, I wondered if I had been ready for this. 

When I changed careers at age 27 and my son started going to “preschool”, things started looking up. I had a new drive and a new passion that was all mine, and I loved every minute of it. Being an entrepreneur opened up skills in me never explored before, and I knew this was the fit I had been missing in my W2 jobs from before. 

Twenty-seven also brought about a loss I never expected: an early-on miscarriage that destroyed everything I believed about the God that I had so vehemently praised my whole life before. I walked a hard journey through the grief and lament and found my way back to Him…sort of. 

Twenty-eight brought the fast and beautifully redemptive unmedicated birth of my daughter. Everything was easier with her—sleep, physical recovery, temperament. And it made me wonder if I had done something wrong with my son. 

Twenty-nine revealed that it wasn’t me. Something was different—but not wrong—about my son. I remember reading the terrible email in the summer of 2023 from his Montessori school telling me he was not allowed to return. He was too different from the others…to difficult. Heartbroken over their disregard (because I had done everything they had asked of me and more), I now see that they were really dancing around what they really thought was going on so with my son so that they could kick him out without technically discriminating. I took it upon myself to seek answers, and I found them in the sanctuary of kind humans and a caring behavior center. Things finally started turning around for my delightfully different son. But the journey to get here has been filled with more than a few ups and downs. 

Amidst all of this, over this past year, I’ve finally started tackling the emptiness and frustrations I’d been feeling for a while, ever since my miscarriage. I’ve sought out the answers to the burning faith questions that have been wrecking me subconsciously for some time. I wouldn’t say I’ve had a revitalization of my faith quite yet, but I do finally see a way there. 

I’ve realized that my internal anguish has been lingering in my soul ever since I became a mom. I hadn’t realized what I was getting into—namely, the selflessness required of a mother. I’ve died to myself for the sake of my kids, and in doing so, I’ve died inside at the loss of my pre-kid identity. Without knowing it, I’ve resented this death of self, wanting to squeeze every bit of my youth out of my life, while knowing I’m moving every day further away from who I once was. 

Thirty and the decade before me is beckoning me to reorient my focus not on the loss of what I had or who I was before. Rather, it’s calling me to focus on what’s before me now. I have a loving, committed, loyal husband who is an incredible father. I’m providing my kids a stable home and intentional time with their parents. I have an amazing job with an unlimited ceiling. There are so many blessings in my life that I am now choosing to delight in. 

I’m finally letting that the girl of my 20s fade into memories, where she belongs. And the woman of my 30s is awakening, showing me that age does not mean I can’t be fun or beautiful or novel anymore. It simply means that, like wine, life is getting better and better with each successive year. 

I’m saying goodbye to confusion and hello to clarity. 

I’m saying goodbye to insecurity and hello to consistency. 

Goodbye to comparison and hello to gratitude. 

When you’re in your twenties, it’s easy to dread getting older. But there’s no delaying time. We all age at the same rate. So, I’m choosing, on this milestone birthday, to embrace aging as another opportunity to grow into the person God has created me to be. I see with more and more clarity that life offers us the chance to either live for ourselves or to live for the benefit of others. 

I’m realizing my twenties were filled with subconsciously living for myself. When my comforts of sleep, routine, and freedom were pulled out from underneath me at the birth of my first child, I was forced to start living for Owen. When I’d finally gotten everything I’d ever hoped to have (husband, kids, house, friends) and I still felt incomplete, I realized my desires for more and better are inexhaustible. And when I realized that I’d been resenting my new life, I was finally able to start letting my old life go. 

I don’t need to keep looking back. I don’t need to wonder if God had something better for me. Looking back doesn’t change the choices I made. They were all good choices that have given me a beautiful life I’ve been struggling to see in midst of my struggle to accept it. 

But I see it now. I see the joy and the love and the adventure our little family is on together. 

So, I’m welcoming this decade warmer than I had expected. I thought I would dread this day. But today, I’m thankful for it. I’m thankful that this year is a milestone year, not just because the number of years I’m turning, but because I’m now embracing my life rather than resisting it. 

Hello, decade number four. I can’t wait to see what words I’ll use to describe you at the next decade turn.