Since I inherited a family gene that is a solid mix of worry, over-reacting and unhappiness from time to time, the annual gathering of celebration for one’s age increasing is a rather timid time for me. I’ve always had the excitement of celebration with the giant hope that my birthday will be amazing, better than anything, but often I’m left with the work of throwing myself my own party and pouting for another year down the drains. Did you know you’re 27% more likely to have a heart attack or stroke during the week of your birthday? Just sayin.
Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some amazing birthdays; however, this year marks a special one for me, one in which I’ve put a lot of expectations on. The big 3-0. Ta da! Don has planned to celebrate it with an amazing trip taking us to the Caribbean so I don’t have to make a depressing birthday even more depressing by working and/or cleaning the house and/or doing the dishes and so on and so forth. Instead we have planned to snorkel at leave 5 times in the tropics and that’s awesome. But at the same time, some family and friends haven’t realized the importance I place on my 30th and there has been very little chatter in the idea of celebrating unless Don and I put it out there that we’d like to. I am grateful to be pregnant and expecting the greatest gift in the world. I know that nothing will live up to that hype. But I want a special birthday and I want everyone to be excited for me. Is that too much to ask? Ha.
In the world of happy, I can gratefully say that I’m officially at the 16 week mark of pregnancy today. That’s exciting! Apparently Little Baby Thomsen measures around the size of an avocado. Next week, Wednesday, we have our amnio, which will not only tell us the important things like the baby’s health, but also the baby’s sex. Yay!
The pregnancy hormones have also been a mess. I find that I’m super sensitive to EVERYTHING, and because of that, I snap, which then has people telling me that my hormone excuse can only go so far. I don’t know, did any of you mom’s ever find that when you were pregnant you wanted just a little more attention than normal? Last year was a really bittersweet year for me. I found that my sister and four closest friends all got pregnant within months of each other while Don and I struggled away at not ever seeing that positive sign ourselves. And while I celebrated each and every one of their events and listened to all of their stories of first kicks, baby hiccups, etc., I was struggling. And yes, it was because I was probably jealous, but I was still so very happy for all of their future adventures – sending enormous gifts, showering them with love and attention, helping with showers and even showing up for the silly things like cleaning out closets to make room for baby. But now I’m finding that it’s my turn and I want that same love, but some of these friends just don’t have the abilities to be there to celebrate everything for me and I’m disappointed. Is that normal? It doesn’t mean I don’t love said friends any less, but I just figured I did it for you, why can’t you do it for me?
Maybe this is immature Sandi talking. Perhaps in 2 weeks, when I’m 30, I’ll be more mature and see things different. 😉 In the meantime, woe is me.