This past week has felt weird. A few days ago I turned 32. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been one to overly celebrate my birthday. It’s never been a count-down for me like some other people I know. I think I’ve always been pretty modest about my birthday. As a kid, it was obviously fun with birthday parties (I had a bowling party 3 years in a row) and presents and friends and cake. I’d often be at summer camp either skipping around a room, with my face in a cake, or thrown into the lake. My early twenties also included some fun Toronto bars. I think the last birthday that was really exciting for me was 25. I had just moved to Israel a few weeks earlier, and it was a quarter-century, so I sort of cared. 26 was fun because 10 days earlier I got engaged, so I was still high from that and this was the year I’d get married to the man of my dreams. At 27 I had gotten married a few months before and was getting excited for our honeymoon in September to Thailand for a month. And then we started trying to have kids and I figured by 28 I’d be a mom, or an almost mom. I definitely figured I’d have at least 2 kids by 32.
Last week I couldn’t really figure out why I wasn’t excited for my birthday. For a few years now I haven’t really wanted to do anything. For my 30th my parents came to visit for a few days in Israel and the whole family celebrated with me. Even threw me a surprise party. Which was fun. But it feels like every year that goes by is just another year that I’m not a mom. I keep feeling like I’m getting older, like not just a year older, but old. I keep thinking about how when my kid is 30 I’ll be 62, which is fine but older than the original plan, and it could take more time. So each year I think about how I’m getting into my 60s rather than my 30s. How I’ll be an old grandmother even if I’m a “normal-aged” mom in my mid-30s (hopefully). This might seem crazy, but as the years keep progressing with infertility, my sense of urgency increases, and my age to me seems so much older than I probably am. Constantly joking about how I’m old probably doesn’t help my psyche either.
So I did end up celebrating my birthday. We had cake at the office (this is standard). I went out for dinner with my husband, parents, and brother to this really great local pub and had an awesome time. I had some close friends over for food and drinks (and more drinks) which was so fun! I can’t hide from my birthday, so why not celebrate.
As we get older we reflect a lot more over the year that was and the year that will be. We become more and more goal-oriented. This makes it hard if there’s something, anything, that’s not going our way, according to our plan. Sometimes we need to give ourselves a break, especially on our birthday. I have every other day of the year to mope about our situation. To be upset about the challenges and hardships of infertility.
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| Celebrating my birthday, 1990 (c) Rebecca Schwartz |
But on my birthday I’m celebrating all the good things in my life. All that I have accomplished over the past year. It’s been a big one, actually. I’ve made some great strides at work. I was part of a management committee planning a large conference for fundraisers. I’ve been asked to be on some nonprofit boards. I came out to the world as infertile and started this blog. Through sharing my story, I know that I have been helping people, which feels amazing. Alon and I keep getting closer and have officially been together for a decade. We have our health and close family and fantastic friends, and a lot to look forward to before I turn 33. In a parallel universe somewhere, there’s a Rebecca with a couple of kids living a very different life. I can’t imagine if the same opportunities would have arisen, or if I would have taken them, or what other opportunities may have come my way. My life would obviously look very different, and the truth is, I like how my life is going right now. I’m not actually old and am thankful for my health, husband, families, and friends. For the most part, my life is really fun. Although, I do hope that next year I’ll be celebrating my birthday all exhausted with a baby screaming in my ears very secretly wishing for another quiet birthday.
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