When I was teenage-years young, I made a decision to only live until my 30th birthday. I was convinced that, although I didn't want to live to even see my 16th or even 20th birthday, that living until I was 30 would be sufficient enough. Even last year as I turned 29, I kept thinking to myself - 'this is my last year', 'only one more year of being so. emotionally. done.' I just saw no point in moving forward, even though in the rational part of my mind I know I have so to live for.
Up until this week, I was ready. To give up. To let go. To say goodbye.
And then today. Today I met my little human (on screen). I saw it move and squirm as the ultra-sound tech tried to take her pictures and measurements. I saw it hide and do the worm and hug itself. I received confirmation that the bubbles i have been feeling in my belly are indeed my little human moving around.
Today things became a little more real.
Today confirmed my reason to continue for another 30 years.
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