The baby-hoardingest birthday
Yesterday was my birthday. (Egghunt‘s too. Hey. Universe. How about you do right by my girl this year, huh? A perfect, smooth, easy-as-possible donor cycle? A thriving pregnancy? A healthy child? A little spot of motherhood? Okay. Deal.)
I turned 36. I think it might have been the best birthday ever. I’ve never enjoyed the IT’S ALL ABOUT YOU! feature of birthdays. And now that Bun Bun is here, it’s not all about me.
She had a stormy night and day on Saturday and a stormy night last night, plus what looks like it will a stormy day today (Possible tooth? Plus HEINOUS DIAPER RASH–how does it spring from nowhere like that?! She almost never has it, but when she does, it tends to be awful.) but yesterday she was sunny as can be. As I was working in the garden getting my greens planted and the soil ready for the warmer weather plants, the sun slowly came out and the day turned heavenly. The lilac even bloomed–my favorite flower.
I guess it’s no news to anyone that I’m the luckiest girl (er…creaky, busted up old lady) on earth. And I’m able to appreciate it a lot these days, now that it’s not snowing and I don’t feel like total shit all the time. But yesterday was about appreciating it intensively. Appreciating some time to myself doing things I enjoy, some time with my child and fetus (who is now moving regularly, making sure I lavish some love on him or her), even enjoying some time with my husband.
So yeah. I’m fortunate, and I know it.