Well, it’s that time again. The self-reflection period of turning another year older. Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’ll be 33 years young. 33. Years. Young. I haven’t really been excited about this birthday. I bought a costume since it’s Halloween, but I didn’t really make plans to celebrate. I don’t know what it is about this year that really makes me want to stay home, watch tv, and sleep. Yes, I’m tired- I work really hard, I tackle many projects, overexert myself in many ways, but this month has me unmotivated and sad.

It’s funny- I expected myself to be in a different place at this age. Don’t get me wrong, I am so happy with how far I’ve come and all I’ve accomplished, but at the same time, wish I was further along in my life. By that, I mean, I wish, by now, I was a mother.

I always talk about this plan I have, about how by a certain age, I’m just going to do it by myself; just me and science. But every year, I up the age. I up the age, not because I am not ready, but because I hope, by some miracle and grace of God, He will bless me with someone who will one day be the person I can start a family with. I want to start a family with THAT person- not just anyone. I’ve prayed to be a better woman; more patient, more understanding, more giving, and I’ve been all that. But so far, nothing. I thought I had that once, but wrong I was, and a bullet I dodged. Thank goodness.

I guess I’ll postpone this for one more year- just in case someone worth sharing my life with comes along. But if not, it’ll be ok, and I will definitely continue on with the plan I put together years ago: The plan of motherhood no matter what.

Happy Birthday to me.