I am turning 30 in 10 months. I am not hyperventilating or gasping for air. Turning 30 seems far away, and I think that is because I have a feeling of having been 29 for ages though it has only been two months. Time is – as I have written or at least planned to write earlier – a rather difficult thing in a PhD household. Though we talk about how time is flying and how there isn’t enough time, it somehow seems days, weeks, months are longer and sometimes never-ending. (They of course aren’t.)
What’s so big about turning 30? I get why 18 is huge, because you go from child to adult overnight and suddenly you are allowed to drive and vote and if you have a job your salary is almost doubled. Overnight. It is weird how you are a child when you go to bed and an adult when you wake up, as if someone poured some grownup sense into you while you were sleeping. But turning 30 will gain me only two rights and those are to talk about people in their twenties as “young senseless people” and moan over the fact that “OMG my next big b-day is 40!” No doubling of salaries and no further vehicles to learn how to drive.
Lots of people have lists of things to do before they turn 30. I don’t. I sometimes wonder whether I should try to make such a list, but 1) I have already got a list of things I would love to do/happen this year and 2) I don’t need to learn how to knit, go bungee jumping or have a tattoo before my birthday. I want to be happy and I want to do things which will make me happy and if it is possible, I would like for this to happen sooner rather than later – why wait for my birthday?
The only thing that haunts me about the upcoming birthday and the “mere” 10 months it’s away, is that my chances of having a baby before turning 30 are running out. And though I know and will guarantee to love a baby just as much should it choose not to come before I have turned 30, it still breaks my heart a little to see my chances of being a 29 year old mum (even if only by days) slip away. If turning 30 marks nothing else, it marks the difference between being a young mum and an old. At least in my world.