Growing up, age never really bothered me. When I hit 21, I never thought it was the last of the “good” birthdays. I was never afraid to get older. When I moved to Colorado just before my 23rd birthday, the girl who ended up being my best friend (and roommate, coworker, and copartier) was 28, nearly 29, and she was excited to turn 30. You see, her Mom had always told her that was the best year of her life, hence she was excited for her 30th year as well. What a great way to think about things, you know? Instead of dreading 30 and freaking out, she looked forward to it! I always figured that’d be me as well.
That being said, I turned 29 today. At this point, if by some miracle we conceive naturally in the next couple of cycles, I might have my first child by 30, but most likely, we’re going to be moving on to IUI or IVF at some point this year and hopefully be having a child at some point in our 30th year (my husband turned 29 just 22 days before me).
That scares the SHIT out of me.
I don’t care so much about being 30 while having my first child, but YIKES, if it’s taking us this long to try to conceive with the 1st, we’re going to start running out of time to have more before we hit the dreaded 35 and high-risk pregnancy is a part of our lives.
I don’t want to regret taking my 20s to find the right guy and to travel and enjoy life with my husband, but it’s so hard to not be jealous of my friends who got married straight out of college and started having kids right away. I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if I’d been 22 and TTC instead of 29. Has anyone else ever wondered about that?