My official countdown to forty has started. As soon as the calendar flipped to March there was no denying that my time has come. It feels big, but I’m not quite sure why. I’ve been batting it around in my head and heart and this is what I keep coming back to.
My thirtieth year was the long (at least it felt
that way) quest to get pregnant and start a family. After so many years of
being told, “you have time” suddenly it switched to, “you better get on that.”
Every first half of the month I played out the same fantasy on my drive to
work, zeroing in on every perfect detail — the moment I would tell Mark I was
pregnant.
I had every aspect mapped out — the music (Marc
Cohn’s “The Things We’ve Handed Down”), my outfit (little black dress), the
ambience (candles and white peonies at a table set for two), all the way to the
silver Tiffany rattle that would announce our entry into the next phase of life
and marriage. After eleven rounds of this mind game I could replay that picture
perfect moment over and over.
When it actually happened this is what it looked
like — packing to move cross country to North Carolina discouraged and fearful
that our baby dreams were not going to come true, I find a pregnancy test in
the back of our bathroom cabinet. I had wised up fast in our trying to conceive
journey and bought tests by the dozen at the dollar store. However, this one
was from the fresh, exciting time and it was the real deal, spell it out in
words, $8.00 test. My thrifty side wouldn’t let me throw it away and my
superstitious/sentimental side wouldn’t let me pack it in a box that signaled a
new start and new chance for a family. So, I decided what the hell?
When I saw the “Pregnant” flash on the stick I
immediately started screaming calling to Mark to come upstairs.
Together, we stood on the top step holding the plastic stick that I had just
peed on, shaking in shock, weeping in joy and disbelief. There was no music, no
flowers, no silver rattle — just the two of us marveling at the thought of
three.
I think it makes for a good example in the difference in my approaching 30 vs. 40. At
thirty you’re mapping out a well-curated adult life — your perfectly packaged
family, house, career, vacations. You’re building a series of snapshots all with
the perfect soundtrack, smiles and color schemes. It’s beautiful, meaningful
and oh, so pretty.
At forty, you’re in the middle of those plans and
it’s all a little messier, harder and disjointed than you could’ve imagined.
It’s also deeper and beautiful in a way you can’t explain until you’re in
those moments holding a stick you just peed on or your fussy baby, your spouse’s
hand as they head into surgery, chubby fingers as they take first steps,
first rides, first days of school, or clutching Easter baskets, Christmas stockings and plane
tickets for four people that now, somehow, are forever linked together.
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I remember taking my wedding vows and seeing them as
distinct chapters, “better or worse, sickness and health, richer or poorer….” I
thought there would be this phase and
then that phase and always on an upward trajectory. I now understand that it all comes mixed together — when parts of your life are plentiful, you can still face emptiness that will bring you to your knees, that richer and
poorer can mean much more than your bank account, that it's the worse that makes you
understand and appreciate the better. My own hardest lesson was realizing that in times of
darkness and grief it’s not necessarily a pain that is divided by two, but a burdened
doubled. For me, forty isn’t shiny, silver-plated and wrapped in a blue box.
Forty is strong, scarred and wrapped in laughter, love and tears.
To be honest, I never really looked much beyond forty, it
seemed far away with much to accomplish before getting there. Now, it feels like
a blank notebook waiting to be filled with the next phase of plans and daydreams.
But what I dream about is not things I can post on Pinterest or Instagram and
feel satisfied with my good taste, my good life. Rather, I find my heart
longing to create connections and authentic memories with those I love most,
including myself. I’m not sure how it happened, but about a month ago I started
feeling kind to myself, almost as if I were my own best friend. Imagine that.
Last weekend I spent time with one of my dearest
friends from college. In 2015 we’re both welcoming our third decade together as
we both hit the big 4-0. She gave me my first 40th birthday gift and
wouldn’t you know? It’s a beautiful, silver circle pendant from Tiffany with
her lovely wishes to live a full life.
Happy Birthday, Leah Elizabeth. May God bless you
and keep you always. May your heart be filled with the fullness of God and
forever be thankful.
