My Life at 34

On Tuesday, I turned 34. I intended to do my annual birthday post as early as Monday, but it hasn’t worked out that way. So here I am, 34 and two days old, writing about where my life stands at this new age.

The sea on my birthday wanderings (23 July 2013 at Sidmouth, around 15:45 BST).

The sea on my birthday wanderings (23 July 2013 at Sidmouth, around 15:45 BST).

Since my birthday, I’ve taken new levels of ‘oldness’ in stride. Today I complained to a shop about their parking — telling them that obviously their sign about small cars only in the end space needs to be bigger. Yesterday I ordered off menu, asking for a combination of a menu item and one of the specials.

I’ve also accepted the flurry of grey hairs that have sprung up as my last dye job grows out. They seem to have come fast and thick since the start of the pregnancy, even gracing me with a few grey eyebrow hairs.

Of course, the pregnancy is the biggest change since my last birthday missive post. As of today, I’m 24 weeks pregnant. (Which means that Craphead is now viable; I’m tempted to start a sweepstakes about when he’ll actually arrive.) This has obviously changed my birthday celebrations somewhat. With a bit of wandering around, I become easily exhausted, so while there has some wandering, the amount of it has been greatly reduced.

The pregnancy has changed my outlook on things somewhat, too. The early worries about only having nine months to accomplish whatever it is I decided I needed to accomplish have long since faded. When I ended up hospitalised — twice — for horrible, all-consuming morning sickness, I gave in to the world. There was nothing I could do to stop what was happening, and knew I had to just go with it. If I can get through a week of work, or even not fall too far behind in a week of work, that’s a victory now.

While this has been a year of new starts, it has also been a year of deep sadness. Even writing that sentence has me welling up, so the paragraph I was planning on writing will go left untyped.

Anyway, 34. It’s an unglamorous age. There’s nothing new that starts at 34, but I’m doing enough new as it is. I don’t need any outside changes in circumstance at 34. By the time I reach 35, I’ll be a mother, a settled immigrant, and who knows what else. Only the coming year will tell.

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About jeninher30s

A writer and procrastinator.
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