I'm 30 now.
Sigh.
No, really, it's ok. I'm not that girl that is all omg I'm 30 eww that's so old and gross blargh. Actually, quite the contrary- I'm looking forward to my 30's and all that these next ten years may bring. I've heard they are the best years of life, and I'm determined to make them that way. Yeah, you heard me, 30's- I ain't scared of you.
So, being the forever nostalgic person that I am, I began reflecting on my 20's and realized how much actually transpired in these past ten years. They are the foundational years of my adulthood and somehow, I not only survived, but I learned things that some people don't learn in their entire lives. For that I am grateful. The struggles and the hardships taught me a lot about life, myself, and what I want and need.
20's recap begin.
I began my 20's in a bad, dark place. I was fighting some enormous demons with a monkey on my back. This was my make-or-break moment, at such a young age. I was either going to succumb to the monkey, or pull myself up by the bootstraps and forge on. I decided it was time to stop being a dumbass and somehow managed to get myself on the right path. Whew, that was close. And it was that fighting spirit, that inner desire to be and do better, that helped me through the rest of my tough times. My first name means "warrior" in Gaelic and there couldn't possibly be a better name for me. Unless there's a Gaelic name that means "so small she looks like a child, but with the fighting spirit of a pissed off Marine."
I had my very first surgery this year, for a rogue and stubborn lymph node. It was my first big health scare, as the doctor mentioned testing me for lymphoma. Luckily all was well and the surgery corrected the issue. I finished up year 20 as a student at USF and working full-time in a jewelry store. It was this year that I met the man that would become my husband. No traveling at the age of 20, though.
21 then arrived. Along with being able to legally drink while looking like a 12-year-old (goodness my ID was scrutinized by a bartender on more than one occasion), I also graduated with my bachelor's degree and began working in an adult mental health facility. I have some great stories, believe me. I very quickly learned how to command an audience and be assertive... ever try to lead a life skills group in a room full of very large adults having active hallucinations? It's great fun, trust me.
I also bought my first house that year. While most of my peers were partying and living the sorority life during their senior year of college, I was buying a house and planning a wedding. Real adult stuff, and I felt mega mature for it. 21 was also the year of my first plane flight, to New York, and later flew to Chicago.
22 was the year I got married. In retrospect, I was way too young. I didn't know myself yet- I had just fought off my demons 2 years prior and was still in the process of healing and self-discovery. Another lesson learned the hard way. But I was happy, and ready to spend the rest of my life with one person, for better or for worse. Rose-colored glasses, sigh.
It was also the year that I began my career in child welfare, having no idea what I was getting myself into, or that I'm one of the few "chosen ones" that can actually succeed in this field and make a difference. As I left my job in adult mental health, a few people very bluntly told me that I wouldn't make it in the field, because they had tried and failed or knew people who tried and failed, saying "good luck, but you'll be back." And here I am, almost 8 years later and a couple rungs higher on the ladder and still going strong. Sometimes others' doubt is the best fuel for ambition.
About two months after my wedding and one month after starting my career, I began having excrutiating pain during my period that was pretty textbook for endometriosis. My doctor didn't hesitate to send me to surgery to officially diagnose and hopefully treat it. Diagnosis confirmed- I was sentenced to a life of pain, yay me. About two weeks after my surgery was when we were hit by a drunk driver, totaling our car, yay. Travel this year: Jamaica, and it was splendid.
It was also the year that I began my career in child welfare, having no idea what I was getting myself into, or that I'm one of the few "chosen ones" that can actually succeed in this field and make a difference. As I left my job in adult mental health, a few people very bluntly told me that I wouldn't make it in the field, because they had tried and failed or knew people who tried and failed, saying "good luck, but you'll be back." And here I am, almost 8 years later and a couple rungs higher on the ladder and still going strong. Sometimes others' doubt is the best fuel for ambition.
About two months after my wedding and one month after starting my career, I began having excrutiating pain during my period that was pretty textbook for endometriosis. My doctor didn't hesitate to send me to surgery to officially diagnose and hopefully treat it. Diagnosis confirmed- I was sentenced to a life of pain, yay me. About two weeks after my surgery was when we were hit by a drunk driver, totaling our car, yay. Travel this year: Jamaica, and it was splendid.
23 was mostly uneventful. We did some traveling... I believe it was the year we first went to Virginia and Washington DC. My first subway/metro experience woop.
24. Oh boy... this is when my life really began the rollercoaster ride that led me to where I am today. We decided it was time to start a family, which was a big, fat fail. I quickly figured out that my reproductive system was a hot mess, and learned the true meaning of desperation and hopelessness. Infertility rocks you to your core, and it was my first lesson in mourning the loss of a possible future. There were many days that I thought I'd never throw a first birthday party for my own child, and it was an extremely painful situation to endure. And lonely. As friend after friend announced pregnancies and popped out gorgeous, squishy babies, I sat on my bathroom floor staring at yet another negative ovulation/pregnancy test, wondering if I'd ever be a mother. It was a cruel irony... the first of many. I was the motherly kind, and wanted nothing more than to have a handful of children, but there I was with an empty womb and a sad heart. To add insult to injury, I was constantly bombarded with statements like "just relax. You're too stressed about it and you won't get pregnant if you're stressed" and "just start the adoption process and you'll get pregnant. It happens all the time" or "don't think about it. Pretend you don't want a baby and then you'll get pregnant." Augh. To distract myself from the frustration (and to "relax" as everyone suggested was the magic ingredient for fertility), I traveled a lot. Las Vegas, North Carolina, St. Augustine, Orlando, the Florida Keys, Jamaica again.
25... I started my 25th year feeling desperate and hopeless, and questioning my life path. I was unhappy with my career (I took a job transfer from child welfare to children's mental health BAD IDEA) and wondering where I should go next. I began feeling like my life wouldn't involve pregnancy or having children of my own, and my then-husband wasn't fond of the idea of adopting. When my fertility doctor suggested we start using injectable hormones to help me get pregnant, we discussed other options and decided on a surgery to clean out my endometriosis and burn holes into my stubborn ovaries with lasers. Yummy. A few weeks after surgery, I was off on another trip to Jamaica. I also returned to child welfare, this time in adoptions. A couple months later, something new happened... I ovulated on my own. I called the doctor, because I was on a self-imposed hiatus from fertility treatments (partially due to a lapse in health insurance from starting my new job) and the stars aligned just right. My health insurance kicked in sooner than expected because of a loophole, and I was prescribed another round of fertility meds.
I will never forget December 20, 2011. I set my last pregnancy test on the bathroom counter and hopped into the shower, thinking to myself "it's not going to be positive. Don't get your hopes up, KT. You're gonna have to order more tests too." I got out of the shower, and there it was. A faint second line on the test strip. I had peed on enough of those tests already to know that this was, indeed, a positive result. I wrapped a towel around me, and ran into the bedroom crying and telling my half-asleep husband that I was pregnant. And I was. I was gloriously, wonderfully pregnant. I spent the next few months proudly sporting my sea bands and fighting off waves of nausea, while giving off the pregnant woman glow and slowly watching my face puff up like a marshmallow in the microwave. So adorbs.
Shortly before my 26th birthday, a routine trip to the OB would send my life into a complete tailspin. The ultrasound showed that there was less than a centimeter of cervix separating my miracle baby from the world, so off I went to the hospital "to be monitored for a couple of days."
Shortly before my 26th birthday, a routine trip to the OB would send my life into a complete tailspin. The ultrasound showed that there was less than a centimeter of cervix separating my miracle baby from the world, so off I went to the hospital "to be monitored for a couple of days."
I celebrated my 26th birthday in the hospital, and was visited by my family who brought gifts and flowers. I was 29 weeks pregnant, and being pumped full of drugs to keep me from delivering my tiny baby girl. I lived in that hospital for 28 days until I delivered a beautiful, tiny, 4lb 5oz fighter. I shed many tears of joy and fear (hormones ugh) in the 23 days of NICU life that followed. Then she was discharged, and our family was complete. Mommy, Daddy, the dog, and the plug-in baby. Being a first-time mom with a sick preemie was the most stressful event of my young life. I can't even begin to describe the feeling of holding a 5lb baby who stops breathing and turns blue right there in your arms. That baby girl and I both fought hard that year, and it was worth it.
27... I was a new mom who had just bought my second house and gotten a promotion at work. My days were crazy. I'd wake up in the morning, get myself ready, get the baby ready, feed the baby, and take the baby to relatives for the day. I'd drive to work, and my days would be so hectic and crazy that I wouldn't even have time to eat or pee. The amount of stress and pressure at work was indescribable and on top of all of that, I didn't feel appreciated for my efforts. I'd then pick up the baby, bring her home, feed her, bathe her, and put her in bed. Then sit at the table by myself, eating a cold dinner. Mom life. This is when my marriage began falling apart, sadly. But it was also the year that I celebrated my miracle child's first birthday, which was a dream come true.
I decided it was time to get back on birth control, because my hormones were getting the best of me. What I thought would be a simple trip to the doctor to get a prescription turned into being scheduled for a biopsy. The results were not good, and I was sent for a surgical biopsy. For once, I had good faith that things would be fine and walked into my post-op appointment feeling pretty well. My doctor let me know that my margins were not clear, and there were still cancer cells in my body. She discussed options, as I sat there numbly listening to her say things like "oncologist" "cancer" and "remission." The next few months consisted of doctor's appointments, getting familiar with the cancer center, blood work like crazy, a trip to the ER, traumatic surgery complications, and having a hysterectomy 3 days before my 28th birthday.
I started out year 28 uterus-free and loopy as hell from pain meds. And on my 28th birthday, I got the call from the oncologist saying they were confident that there was no remaining disease and that I had been cured. Best birthday present ever. Two weeks later, however, I began to bleed and a failed attempt at patching the leak sent me into an episode of traumatic bleeding. I was taken back to the cancer center where I began going into shock and remained there for a couple days until I stabilized and was sent home, exhausted and weak. But I survived, although I was significantly traumatized by the events.
My health gradually improved as my relationship with my husband began to worsen. My health scare was very eye-opening for me in many ways, and some of those ways weren't so good. Then I found out I was being cheated on, and my world slowly began to crumble around me.
I spent the majority of my 28th year of life clinging to and trying to salvage my marriage for the sake of my daughter. But at the same time, I also resolved to focus on my own happiness for once. I was tired of being a neglected wife and pouring my energy into someone else's happiness at the expense of my own. I also spent the year being mommy to one very feisty, wickedly smart, sassy little two-year-old who stole my heart every time she looked at me with those enormous blue eyes.
I got another promotion during this year, which sent me to work more than 35 miles from home, but the decrease in stress was well worth the extra drive time. We put kiddo in daycare and while our schedules changed dramatically, my sanity was finally restored. This was also the year that I experienced my first ever child death at work. It rocked me to my core... a decision that I made on a case (it was the right decision, and the state agreed and no one was found to be responsible for her death other than the man who murdered her) resulted in a child being killed. I questioned my career, I worried I'd get fired, and I was mourning the loss of an innocent child and her innocent grandmother. But I learned a lot through that experience, and it strengthened my resolve to continue working in this thankless field, despite the nasty backlash from people wanting to have a pity party in the media.
I got another promotion during this year, which sent me to work more than 35 miles from home, but the decrease in stress was well worth the extra drive time. We put kiddo in daycare and while our schedules changed dramatically, my sanity was finally restored. This was also the year that I experienced my first ever child death at work. It rocked me to my core... a decision that I made on a case (it was the right decision, and the state agreed and no one was found to be responsible for her death other than the man who murdered her) resulted in a child being killed. I questioned my career, I worried I'd get fired, and I was mourning the loss of an innocent child and her innocent grandmother. But I learned a lot through that experience, and it strengthened my resolve to continue working in this thankless field, despite the nasty backlash from people wanting to have a pity party in the media.
My 29th birthday was my last one with an intact family, although I didn't know it at the time. I spent the next few months giving one final effort, until we inevitably separated. The heartache that followed was indescribable and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Divorce sucks. I sold my dream home and threw away my wedding mementos (ugly cry). I split my belongings in half and packed up what was mine, and moved into my tiny apartment. It was the second cruel irony of my life- I put my foot down and asked the man who promised me "forever" to be a better person. And he decided to do that... without me. For someone else. So the world would gain a better member of society, while I lost the life and future I had planned.
29 was the worst year of my life. One of my lowest points happened in February of 2016. I sat in my doctor's office waiting to explain to the doctor how I hadn't been able to feel half of my face since October, and after lots of testing, the neurologist concluded that severe stress had been affecting my nerve function. I checked my email in the waiting room, and found out that we finally had an offer on our home. I was initially excited, then stressed, then devastated, as I realized that my former life was really and truly coming to an end. I called my mom on my way to work from the doctor, and explained the stressful situation that was unfolding because of some unnecessary arguing about the sale of the house with my ex. After consoling me, my mom gave me the absolute worst news I've ever heard in my life. My dad had melanoma. Time paused, as my car went silent and more than just my face became numb. My mom reassured me that everything was going to be fine, and every bit of strength I had exited my body. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn't. I've always been strong in those situations, but I just couldn't. Not that day. Not that situation. I hung up the phone and sat in my car sobbing and trying to regain my composure enough to walk into my office. I felt like my life was crumbling around me... I was losing my husband, half of my child, my dream home, my financial stability, my future, and possibly even my father (my dad ended up having a very successful surgery and is healthy now. We are waiting to see what the next step is, but he is currently cancer-free. There was such an enormous sense of relief after we got his final pathology results and found out that his sentinel lymph nodes were clear... my father is one of the most important people in my life and the thought of losing him was absolutely devastating to me. It still puts a lump in my throat when I think about it). My friends and family banded around me during that time, knowing that I was climbing a mountain and just needed to make it through those few months so I could start to rebuild. I wanted nothing more than for my dad to be healthy, and be around to see me succeed again.
The months that followed were not good. I was very emotional and the struggles consumed me. I was not myself. I was an ugly, angry, hurt version of my worst self who said and did things that I'd never dream of doing on a normal day. But I kept reminding myself that the fog would lift, and that I couldn't give up. I repeated my mantra: "I will not roll over and wait to die." I was going to make it through.
29 was the worst year of my life. One of my lowest points happened in February of 2016. I sat in my doctor's office waiting to explain to the doctor how I hadn't been able to feel half of my face since October, and after lots of testing, the neurologist concluded that severe stress had been affecting my nerve function. I checked my email in the waiting room, and found out that we finally had an offer on our home. I was initially excited, then stressed, then devastated, as I realized that my former life was really and truly coming to an end. I called my mom on my way to work from the doctor, and explained the stressful situation that was unfolding because of some unnecessary arguing about the sale of the house with my ex. After consoling me, my mom gave me the absolute worst news I've ever heard in my life. My dad had melanoma. Time paused, as my car went silent and more than just my face became numb. My mom reassured me that everything was going to be fine, and every bit of strength I had exited my body. I wanted to be strong, but I couldn't. I've always been strong in those situations, but I just couldn't. Not that day. Not that situation. I hung up the phone and sat in my car sobbing and trying to regain my composure enough to walk into my office. I felt like my life was crumbling around me... I was losing my husband, half of my child, my dream home, my financial stability, my future, and possibly even my father (my dad ended up having a very successful surgery and is healthy now. We are waiting to see what the next step is, but he is currently cancer-free. There was such an enormous sense of relief after we got his final pathology results and found out that his sentinel lymph nodes were clear... my father is one of the most important people in my life and the thought of losing him was absolutely devastating to me. It still puts a lump in my throat when I think about it). My friends and family banded around me during that time, knowing that I was climbing a mountain and just needed to make it through those few months so I could start to rebuild. I wanted nothing more than for my dad to be healthy, and be around to see me succeed again.
The months that followed were not good. I was very emotional and the struggles consumed me. I was not myself. I was an ugly, angry, hurt version of my worst self who said and did things that I'd never dream of doing on a normal day. But I kept reminding myself that the fog would lift, and that I couldn't give up. I repeated my mantra: "I will not roll over and wait to die." I was going to make it through.
I completely started over just before my 30th birthday. 29 was not pretty. 29 was ugly, and sad, and devastating.
But somehow, I pulled up the nose at the very last minute. The fog lifted as I had hoped it would, and I began to heal from the hurt and disappointment. I went through the motions... I was sad, I was angry, I was confused, and I was hurt. I let myself feel, I let myself process, and I let myself repair the damage that had been done. And finally, I was successful.
It felt like the sun rising after a long, dark night. As it crests over the horizon, you once again become aware of the beautiful things that were masked by the darkness.
The anger dissipated and the acceptance set in. The weight on my shoulders lightened. It didn't break me, though for a while I worried that it did. The hurt in my heart was being replaced with the love that surrounded me during my worst time...
It felt like the sun rising after a long, dark night. As it crests over the horizon, you once again become aware of the beautiful things that were masked by the darkness.
The anger dissipated and the acceptance set in. The weight on my shoulders lightened. It didn't break me, though for a while I worried that it did. The hurt in my heart was being replaced with the love that surrounded me during my worst time...
I spent my 30th birthday smiling. I spent time with my daughter, my wonderful boyfriend, and finished the night with a surprise party with a bunch of my friends. I was happy and felt loved.
And here I am now, 30 years old, and starting over.
But I learned so much in my 20's, and I am so grateful for the ability to fight through the struggles and learn from them, instead of letting them destroy me and make me into a bitter, negative person.
I learned that things don't matter; people matter. It sounds simple and pretty obvious, but I had to learn that one the hard way. Looking back, I was filling an emotional void with tangible items. The less I felt loved in my marriage, the more I tried to make myself happy with possessions. The real happiness came when I stopped putting my value in my things, and put more of my time and energy into my relationships with the people around me. It came at a difficult time, when some of the people in my life decided to make a prompt exit upon hearing the news of my pending divorce, but I still decided to rest my head on love and trust. I have an amazing support system and a wonderful group of friends, and a family that is always there for me no matter what. I'm closer to all of those people than I've ever been. Some of them saw me at my absolute worst, and chose to stick around. They chose to support me and love me despite the ugliness and I learned that those people are the ones I want and need in my life.
I learned that I'm strong. I'm damned strong. I pulled through some seriously difficult times and didn't let anything defeat me. I lost some battles, and I had plenty of moments of losing my cool, but I always rebounded and am back to my normal happy-go-lucky self. I have never let circumstances destroy me.
I learned that I can make some pretty stupid decisions. And I am lucky to be where I'm at today. I learned to listen... if something doesn't seem right, or everyone around me is warning me about something... then I should proceed with caution, or not proceed at all.
I learned that I'm worth it. But that didn't come until very, very recently. I spent years of my life feeling unimportant and undervalued, and ironically, my attempt to correct that only made it worse. When I asked for better, I was told that it wasn't possible. And then he was gone, in the arms of another woman. My friends, my therapist, my family- everyone- told me that it had nothing to do with my own worth. That this other woman wasn't worth more than me. But I didn't believe them for a long time... I wondered what was so broken and wrong about me. I thought of all of my struggles, my pain, my hysterectomy, the physical and emotional scars... and I felt worthless. Briefly. Somehow, the constant message being pounded into my head by others saying "you're worth it. You're beautiful and strong, and you'll be fine" sank in and I started to believe it. And I do believe it. My worth is not determined by my divorce. I'm not a failure. I'm not broken. I'm not half of a person. I'm a whole person who is really (pardon my colorful language) fucking strong and valuable. I'm a damned good mother, a successful professional, and I was a damned good wife. And now I'm a damned good girlfriend. I have worth. I know my worth, and that's not me being conceited. That's me knowing that I have value. That I'm not perfect, but I'm good enough. I stumble some days, and I question all of that. But overall, I know it to be true.
I am finding myself now. I am remembering how I'd much rather be outside than inside. I have urges to climb trees, and those urges are quickly dampened by my fear of spiders. I am spunky and sarcastic, but sometimes sensitive. I just want everyone around me to be happy and often times feel far too responsible for that. If I feel I've failed at making someone I love happy, a part of me crumbles temporarily. I'm working on that. I'm a peacekeeper. I curse a lot around people who are ok with it. I have a terrible sense of humor and love to laugh as often as possible. I don't like being around people with a poor sense of humor because they ruin my vibe. I hate running, but I do it, and am starting to love it (curses!). I don't watch a lot of TV and can never remember a single second of any movie I've ever watched, which is not very many. I procrastinate so, so badly. I like sleeping in and napping. I also like doing yoga and weight training, and love trail running and hiking. I want to climb mountains, and swim in oceans and lakes, walk along train tracks, go on road trips, drink all the beers, and take lots of pictures. I need to be appreciated. Some people don't need that, but I thrive on it. I hide my pain from the world (physical and emotional) because I'd rather not show weakness, and I'd rather not have the sympathy. I need to love fiercely and be loved fiercely.
And here I am now, 30 years old, and starting over.
But I learned so much in my 20's, and I am so grateful for the ability to fight through the struggles and learn from them, instead of letting them destroy me and make me into a bitter, negative person.
I learned that things don't matter; people matter. It sounds simple and pretty obvious, but I had to learn that one the hard way. Looking back, I was filling an emotional void with tangible items. The less I felt loved in my marriage, the more I tried to make myself happy with possessions. The real happiness came when I stopped putting my value in my things, and put more of my time and energy into my relationships with the people around me. It came at a difficult time, when some of the people in my life decided to make a prompt exit upon hearing the news of my pending divorce, but I still decided to rest my head on love and trust. I have an amazing support system and a wonderful group of friends, and a family that is always there for me no matter what. I'm closer to all of those people than I've ever been. Some of them saw me at my absolute worst, and chose to stick around. They chose to support me and love me despite the ugliness and I learned that those people are the ones I want and need in my life.
I learned that I'm strong. I'm damned strong. I pulled through some seriously difficult times and didn't let anything defeat me. I lost some battles, and I had plenty of moments of losing my cool, but I always rebounded and am back to my normal happy-go-lucky self. I have never let circumstances destroy me.
I learned that I can make some pretty stupid decisions. And I am lucky to be where I'm at today. I learned to listen... if something doesn't seem right, or everyone around me is warning me about something... then I should proceed with caution, or not proceed at all.
I learned that I'm worth it. But that didn't come until very, very recently. I spent years of my life feeling unimportant and undervalued, and ironically, my attempt to correct that only made it worse. When I asked for better, I was told that it wasn't possible. And then he was gone, in the arms of another woman. My friends, my therapist, my family- everyone- told me that it had nothing to do with my own worth. That this other woman wasn't worth more than me. But I didn't believe them for a long time... I wondered what was so broken and wrong about me. I thought of all of my struggles, my pain, my hysterectomy, the physical and emotional scars... and I felt worthless. Briefly. Somehow, the constant message being pounded into my head by others saying "you're worth it. You're beautiful and strong, and you'll be fine" sank in and I started to believe it. And I do believe it. My worth is not determined by my divorce. I'm not a failure. I'm not broken. I'm not half of a person. I'm a whole person who is really (pardon my colorful language) fucking strong and valuable. I'm a damned good mother, a successful professional, and I was a damned good wife. And now I'm a damned good girlfriend. I have worth. I know my worth, and that's not me being conceited. That's me knowing that I have value. That I'm not perfect, but I'm good enough. I stumble some days, and I question all of that. But overall, I know it to be true.
I am finding myself now. I am remembering how I'd much rather be outside than inside. I have urges to climb trees, and those urges are quickly dampened by my fear of spiders. I am spunky and sarcastic, but sometimes sensitive. I just want everyone around me to be happy and often times feel far too responsible for that. If I feel I've failed at making someone I love happy, a part of me crumbles temporarily. I'm working on that. I'm a peacekeeper. I curse a lot around people who are ok with it. I have a terrible sense of humor and love to laugh as often as possible. I don't like being around people with a poor sense of humor because they ruin my vibe. I hate running, but I do it, and am starting to love it (curses!). I don't watch a lot of TV and can never remember a single second of any movie I've ever watched, which is not very many. I procrastinate so, so badly. I like sleeping in and napping. I also like doing yoga and weight training, and love trail running and hiking. I want to climb mountains, and swim in oceans and lakes, walk along train tracks, go on road trips, drink all the beers, and take lots of pictures. I need to be appreciated. Some people don't need that, but I thrive on it. I hide my pain from the world (physical and emotional) because I'd rather not show weakness, and I'd rather not have the sympathy. I need to love fiercely and be loved fiercely.
And I am a mom. It's not all that I am, but it's most of it. Bringing a little life into this world has been the most amazing, magical, chaotic thing I've ever done. I've read all the mommy blogs and articles and know about sleep regressions and developmental stages and teething. But what I didn't know... was what it feels like to know another being on that level. I know everything about her. Everything. I know where her moles are (omg so cute, I die) and the exact shade of her eyes. I know the phrases she uses, what makes her happy, and all of her fears. I can tell how she feels by her posture and by the twinkle (or lack thereof) in her eyes. I know how she likes her waffles made. I'm not a perfect mother, and I never will be. But she's taught me so much in her 4 short years on this earth. I can only hope to be the best mother I can possibly be and to give her the best childhood she could possibly have. She is absolutely the center of my whole universe and always will be; there will never be another person more important to me than her.
So there we have it, folks. My soap opera of adulthood, crammed into a novel-esque blog post for the world to read. I don't know what the next ten years will bring, but I hope they're more stable than my 20's. Please, be more stable than my 20's.
