I'm going to be thirty this Sunday.
I typically look forward to my birthday for months. I get so excited, and make lots of plans. I look forward to the presents and the food and the family and the fun.
This year is different.
I'm not excited. I'm actually dreading it.
Why are birthdays such harsh reminders of my infertility? I am fairly certain this rings true for many women who struggle with infertility.
I can understand the "milestone birthdays" perhaps causing some sadness. For example, I always told myself that I would be done having kids by the age of 30. I yearned to be a "young mom". So, due to the foolish thoughts of my teenage self, I dread this birthday more than any other I've ever had.
But since dealing with infertility, I dread all birthdays. But it doesn't make sense to me, really. I mean, a birthday is a day to celebrate YOU, not to celebrate those that have come out of your vagina. Right?
Logically, I understand. But I cannot separate infertility from the rest of my life. I want to. But I can't. I don't know how.
My sister called me earlier, asking what I wanted for my birthday, "other than a baby".
Well, nothing. Nothing other than a baby.
Iron & Wine: Passing Afternoon