39 for 39 minutes

Holy shit. In about 40 minutes, I’ll turn 40. That seems so insane to me. What is on my mind, as 39 dwindles, is how lucky I truly am. I firmly believe that being grateful is one of the biggest ways to achieve happiness. Being grateful for what we have makes us focus on the good things in our lives, and naturally brings some happiness.

Tonight, my son was out and it was just me and the tiny diva. We cuddled, we giggled, we bakes cupcakes, got covered in frosting, ate cupcakes, and cuddled some more. I made an extra effort to truly focus on the moment, because I want it firmly planted in my memory. My son walked through the door and I gave him extra hugs and kisses. My son challenged me earlier in the week to use my Fitbit and actually reach my 10,000 steps each day. Out of 3 weeks I am sad to say I had only reached that goal once. He challenged me though, and all I can think of is that I can’t let him down. I want him to see me reach goals, and make the effort. Needless to say I spent the last hour or so pacing and jogging around the house. I made the 10,000, and I know tomorrow I can tell him with pride that I worked to meet my goal. I am far more at peace tonight than I had expected. Content. It is good.

I have been thinking of my parents a lot. My dad sent me a card with a sentiment in there that was uncharacteristically emotional for him. It was short, and it was sweet, but I don’t think he has any idea how much I was thrilled to read it, and how special it made me feel. I have also made big strides in my relationship with my stepmother. I wish I had realized a couple of years ago that a little (ok a lot) more effort on my behalf would have not only made our relationship far less strained, but would have brought everyone involved a bigger sense of peace. I feel bad that the realization hit me so late that being more open to her wasn’t a slight towards my mother’s memory. It’s a balance I am learning to handle much better these days.

I miss my mom right now. Miss her terribly. Every year on my birthday she would wax poetic about the day I was born. I enjoyed it, but I wondered why she told me the same thing every year. God, what I wouldn’t give to hear those stories again! I realized now she told me those stories because that’s what mom’s do. Now that I am a mom, I do the same thing. I want to share the stories of when my kids were born with them because they were some of the happiest moments of my life. One of the stories my mom told me was that I was possibly a twin. I was born prior to the days of multiple ultrasounds etc, and her belly was huge. She had been pregnant with twins before and miscarried. She had a very hard labor, and lost a lot of
Blood. After they delivered me, the doctor told her to hold off pushing for a moment, and that there was another baby. The nurse started crying, and the dr told her to leave the room and get another nurse. A second nurse came in an the for told her to get a bowl. She too started crying. My mother was in and out of it soon, and she believes there was another baby, but that the baby had passed in utero. She asked her nurse about the other baby and was told she had a healthy baby and should focus on me. She never got an answer, and I guess she decided to focus on the baby she had that was in her arms. She often wondered over the years, and tried to find out, but was unable to obtain my birth records. She asked my grandmother to look into it, but she wasn’t able to find anything out either. I think the records went missing or something had happened at the hospital. It makes me sad my mom died without knowing. Years later, a relative lost one twin after brig diagnosed with twin to twin transfusion syndrome. I now wonder if it runs in my family. I often wonder if I had a twin. I wonder what it would have been like.

I wonder what my mom would think of how her daughter turned out. Would she be proud of me? Would she think I have done ok? Would she be telling me those stories again? I think she would, I know she would. I miss her more than I can express. This birthday feels like one we should be celebrating together. Instead, I shall be thinking of her and missing her, especially during the quiet moments.

I took the day off work, and planned some pampering time. What then happened was that a host of appointments got scheduled, leaving my running errands and seeing drs all day. Not so relaxing. At the very least, I hope to finish the day with a fabulous haircut. I’d like to write more, but this 40 year old is exhausted. Thank you to all who read my ramblings and support me with your kind words. I am grateful for the encouragement! Onwards and upwards to the next 40!

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