Yesterday (Wednesday) was my 30th birthday. Thirty! I don’t feel thirty. Or maybe I do. I can’t handle all-nighters anymore or more than two glasses of wine… but otherwise, I feel so young!
My wonderful husband pulled off a fabulous surprise party! He’s tried surprises before, but I usually figure it out or at least have a hunch. But this time I was genuinely surprised!
I’ve been so busy/distracted/depressed lately that I didn’t feel much like planning anything, but I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t celebrate somehow. Sam eventually came up with the plan that we could have a nice quiet dinner by ourselves on Wednesday and that he would take care of planning something for Saturday with friends. It’s hard for a planner like myself to turn over control to a non-planner like Sam. But I just couldn’t fathom trying to do it myself. Too exhausting a task for right now.
So we went to dinner in the rain, and lo and behold… my friends and family were there waiting for us! There was confetti and balloons and sushi and wine and cupcakes and it was fantastic! We had a great time and I’m so glad I got to celebrate. I got some genuinely thoughtful gifts and I think I’m most excited about guitar lessons. It will be so much fun to try something new this summer. I need a hobby other than watching Fixer Upper reruns and reading blogs all day long.
Hubby bought a ukulele this week and my guitar came out of hiding, so we joke about starting a band. Can you imagine?! Ha!
I’ve always wanted to do something big for the “Dirty Thirty“. In the past, my birthday hasn’t always been the greatest day. For many years I had tests and finals, and since college I’ve typically been in meetings or under work-related stress. I was thinking that the big 3-0 may be an end to my un-happy birthday streak. But a few short months ago it dawned on me that I would be very pregnant on the big day. This meant no sushi, no wine, and most likely no energy. I selfishly whined about it…
But, OH, what I wouldn’t give to still be pregnant! I would be 33 weeks along today. In three more weeks, I would have to be in Dallas per Doctors’ orders so they could keep an eye on me. I would most likely be induced at 37 or 38 weeks.
I miss my Ryder. So. Much.
I had a great day yesterday. I almost feel guilty about it now. How could I have so much fun? I’m supposed to be grieving, right? Not laughing and enjoying myself. I know it’s normal to feel that way and I keep telling myself that, but it doesn’t make it any easier.
I spent the afternoon shopping for myself, mostly for post-pregnancy clothes since barely anything fits me these days. I also went to a Christian bookstore in town and bought a children’s book. The day Ryder arrived we had gone there looking for a book of Bible stories to read to him at night. We found one, but I also found a book called God Gave Us You by Lisa Tawn Bergen. I cried as I flipped through the pages in the middle of the store. In the end we put it back, deciding we’d get it another time. Yesterday, I decided I had to go back for it.
One page says, “‘We went to the doctor and heard your heartbeat,’ she said. ‘I cried happy tears then.'” We had been to see the doctor earlier that day. Ryder’s heartbeat had been so weak. But it was there. And I cried.
Another page says, “‘Umm, Mama? I was wondering… Did you ever want a different baby? One like Samuel the seal or Fredrika the fox?'” And the mama says, “Never, ever, ever. Your papa and I wouldn’t trade you for the world.” And we certainly wouldn’t. God gave us Ryder and I wouldn’t trade him for anything.
I just wish he could have been here to celebrate with me.
With hope and love,