It's my party, I can cry if I want to.

I've never really been big on birthdays, but I have to admit I never thought turning thirty would be so difficult. Not because I didn't want to turn thirty, I did!

I've been the "baby" at virtually every job ever, so I've been all kinds of excited about finally hitting that number where people stop referring to me as a baby and start referring to me as a damned adult. I'm leagues away from those folks in their early twenties who have a job to bankroll their partying, but somehow, those of us in the late twenties are always painted with that same "young and dumb" brush, regardless of how much we've accomplished or how responsible we are. It's annoying. So I've been excited about hitting that magic number where I'm no longer pigeon-holed because I just so happen to be in the same decade as kids in college.

But turning thirty today didn't go at all how I envisioned it going.

I figured I'd survive the day at work, come home and snuggle on the couch with SS while we watched a movie. A low key, stress free, drama free kind of day.

Ha!

I woke up this morning to find SS hunched over the toilet bowl. He's caught the stomach virus that's making the rounds. Not a good start to the morning. And then my dang car wouldn't start. I finally made it to the meeting 2 hours away, only for the meeting host to be MIA. We waited around for a good twenty minutes before she finally showed up. As I said before, I'm the "baby" at work. Most of my coworkers are fifteen, twenty years older than I am. So you'd think we could make it through a meeting with no drama, right?

Double ha!

It was nothing but drama from the word go.

Then I started feeling sick to my stomach, so the 2 hour ride home was rough.

When I finally got home, I breathed a sigh of relief that I could just chill out for the rest of the evening.

And then a friend who hasn't ever wanted kids told me she's pregnant.

I wanted to be happy for her. Part of me is happy for her.

The other part though... well, that part can't help but wonder why people who don't want kids are blessed with them, while so many of us who walk through hell trying to have a baby... can't. And please don't tell me that God has a plan or he knows what he's doing or anything else meant to comfort. At the risk of becoming repetitive, saying things like that to us isn't helpful or comforting or anything remotely close.

I just don't get it.

And I didn't expect to hear that news from a friend on an already difficult day. It made me realize that our baby should have been turning eight this month. Instead, here I am, turning thirty without having ever held our baby or been pregnant since. That bowled me over.

I'm left feeling sad and angry.

I should be proud of myself today. I accomplished so much in my twenties, more than I ever thought I'd accomplish in ten years. Hell, more than many accomplish in their entire lives. I should be celebrating this day and the triumphs and successes and even the failures that got me to this far. I shouldn't be feeling sad or bitter today. But I do. I didn't expect that.

I know tomorrow will be different, because I'm not the kind of person that lets myself wallow, but so far? Being thirty sucks, and I wasn't prepared for that.

-Ayden