Today I turn 28. Which means I am officially ‘nearly’ 30. I am also 28 weeks pregnant +1 day. Now I’m not one of those people who dreads ageing, and sets out on a mission impossible to conceal their age, but I know which of my ’28’ milestones I’m most excited about!
As a January baby, I am so happy my baby boy will have an April birthday. It is my first gift to him. That probably sounds dramatic to the fortunate many who weren’t born in the two months sandwiching 25th December, but to those that were, they will understand exactly where I’m coming from. By the time our birthdays roll around, and depending on which side of Christmas we were blessed to be born, we find that people are either too busy decking their halls with boughs of holly to celebrate, or have had their fill of festivities. Well at least until the chocolate eggs begin appearing. Consequently, when January arrives, no one has the capacity for more than self-loathing at their yuletide overindulgence, and resolutions to never touch [insert vice as applicable: alcohol, food and/or credit card] ever again. Or at least for a month…why do you think dry January has gained traction?! Unfortunately, that leaves even my nearest and dearest bereft of birthday fun.
Nonetheless, and in spite of being reminded by everyone that they hate January, I have for the last three years inclusive, liked my birthday. For my 26th birthday, my then boyfriend (and now husband) flew us to Paris under the guise of transforming my birthday from a day I dread, into a day I love. The day after, he proposed. So that was an awesome birthday. Next came my 27th birthday when I was preparing for our February wedding. Then this year, on my 28th birthday, I am growing my baby boy inside me. So you see, I think I may have grown as my husband intended, to love my birthday. Therefore, you can forget Blue Monday, forget the 300+ day countdown until next Christmas, forget yearning for more self-control, and you can certainly forget the self-recrimination for the thrice-daily-for-a-month mince pie habit… I’m pregnant don’t you know?!
A lot can change in a year. It certainly did for me. I married my boyfriend of 6 years, we moved back to London, and I fell pregnant. Therefore, instead of dreading my January birthday, I now grab hold of the hope at what another January being alive may bring.
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