I turned 30 this past week. (16w2d)

And I was having a ton of emotions about it. (Noooo, a pregnant woman was emotional?!) Anyway, I started journaling about it; realized I type much faster than I write; started typing it instead; and it turned into a 3,000 word open letter to my family.

We had an incredible celebration on Thursday night that couldn't have been better in my imagination. And here's what I read to them:

As I sit here for my first moments of silence of today (homework’s done, kids are fed, teeth are brushed, books are read, clothes are out for tomorrow, and they’re all asleep!), I’m pondering what seems to be my last few moments of childhood. Of course, I’ve technically been an “adult” for several years now. But something about turning 30 just screams, “there’s no looking back now, lady.” With nothing but the sound of the dryer (seems to be the running soundtrack of my life lately), I’m left to my own thoughts of where I started out and what I’ve become over the last thirty years. And of course … what will I become over the next thirty?

I’m pretty sure that I started out as a very bright, charismatic little girl who absolutely loved the spotlight. And according to Mom’s journal, I also had quite the penchant for mischief, and apparently food:

“November 26, 1979. Not a day goes by without my asking, ‘Will I make it?’ I just never know what to expect next. One minute she’s sweetly rocking & reading (which she’s doing now in the den with her Daddy) or playing with her toys or her baby and the next minute she’s wiping Vaseline all over her walls, A&D ointment over her windows, candle wax on the French doors, comet on the floors, prescribed cream all over her hands, or snatching crackers, donuts or bread from the kitchen. The child has a bottomless pit! She wants to eat all the time! Asked for a popsicle all day long beginning at 9 am. Her diet today – buttered toast, beignet & juice at 8 am. Cheerios at 11 am. 2 hotdogs, cheese, green beans and about 6 crackers at noon. More juice. A huge mandarin after her nap at 4 pm. Beans at 5 pm. Dinner at 6 pm (rice and chicken stew, gravy and more beans). Ice cream at 7:30 pm and at 8:30 we caught her snitching crackers from the pantry. I could only laugh. Bro wants me to call the doctor.”

I was not quite two then, and thankfully, I’ve come a long way, though the love of food is arguable. I still enjoy telling a good story but don’t nearly enjoy having all eyes on me like I used to (tonight is obviously the exception). I like to think that I’ve become much more self-aware and introspective, and I’m pretty sure I can pinpoint when most of that began to change: April 16, 2002. The day that Hayes was born.

Naturally, there were events and realities that shaped the course of my life before that precious boy entered this world, but none of it seems paramount to actually bringing another life onto this Earth. And besides, if we took a true walk down memory lane, we’d be here all night.

You hear people talk about this spiritual awakening that occurs after your first child is born. What you rarely hear, though, is when that awakening actually occurs. Because by reading anyone’s account of said epiphany, you’d think it happens immediately upon hearing the first cry. This may, of course, be true for some. But it certainly wasn’t for me.

It also didn’t happen when I first heard the twins’ cries of birth, though I do know for certain that I became very aware of this awakening the moment I laid eyes on both of them in the ultrasound we learned of their existence. I guess, for me, it has been (and remains to be) more of a spiritual journey, as opposed to an “aha” moment.

The past year, though, has been a big one, especially with regard to this journey. Turning 29 wasn’t easy for me, though it happens to be the number of greatest love – just ask my kids. It was just one step closer to 30, which I’ve already mentioned taunts you (much like, say, a bratty younger brother might when reminding you of how old you are). But looking back, it was certainly a year of personal growth. I had the privilege of witnessing my grandmother take her last breaths of life, which was a painful but very spiritual experience; Hayes started kindergarten, which has been surprisingly much more difficult for me than I imagined possible; Jason and I decided to expand our family, which required more than a little prayer and discernment; our “babies” turned four and are now proper conversationalists; and certainly a slew of other “growths” that I’m leaving out.

But, ultimately it’s been a year of listening to my soul, slowing down and learning to truly appreciate the important things in life. And at the top of that list, for me, is family. Naturally, Jason, Hayes, Mary Beth, Sam and New Baby share the very first spot. But closely behind come the rest of you as I’ve realized that there are no more important people on this Earth to me than those I’m related to. I do so enjoy my friendships outside of the family, but none of them are nearly as fulfilling as my relationships with each of you.

Sometimes life is funny, though. Had you asked me ten years ago to glance down the path of my life to tell you what I saw, not necessarily what I desired but what I saw, the one thing I thought I’d surely have would be some sort of solid career. Yet it’s the only thing missing from this “path”. And it’s something I’ve struggled with a bit since settling down to raise a family. But this past year has helped to make my life’s purpose much clearer to me. The first order of business now that I’m (truly) an adult is to stop wondering, even in brief moments, if at some point my life got off track and trust and accept that I am on the path that God has chosen for me. I am to be a wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend. And I am to be the best wife, mother, daughter, sister and friend that I can possibly be. I hope that each of you continue to support me and love me as I continue on my journey over the next thirty years in becoming better at of all these roles I play in my life.

Jason, I simply cannot imagine life without you. It’s hard, in fact, to think of what life was like before you were a part of me. We’re coming up on nine years of knowing each other. Nine years of friendship, of love, of laughter, of tears, of connecting of souls; and nine years of being smacked upside the head with wet fish. And I am so very grateful for your unconditional love of me … your true acceptance of who I really am and your understanding of my deepest desires in life. God could not have chosen a more perfect partner to accompany me on my journey down this path. Because what I truly desired in my heart of hearts ten years ago was not a big career, but to find someone with whom my soul connected. Someone who challenged me to be my best, yet made relationships seem so easy. Someone who would be a good father to my children. Someone who would be my partner in life and truly, wholly, love me. Not for who they wanted me to be, but for who I am. And it took me a bit to come around, but eventually I got smacked with God’s wet fish and realized that you were it. And thank God you waited for me to come to my senses. Because I have no doubts that you were created for me and given as a gift to me … the greatest, in fact, of life’s gifts. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for supporting me when times have been tough and not only tolerating, but loving me along this journey of self-discovery. I love you with all of my being and I am so honored to be sharing the next thirty years of my life with you. (When you’ll be almost 65).

Mom, I will never forget the email you sent to me a few months back that said if you weren’t my mother, you’d want to be my best friend, but that you really like being my mom. Well, I really like you being my mom too. But you should know that I think of those words often and I will cherish them for the rest of my life. There is something uniquely intimate about the mother/daughter relationship. The former best nap I’ve ever had, which only recently got bumped to second place, was with you in your bed on Mount Vernon. I don’t know what it was exactly about that day, but I suspect that there was some ultimate comfort in being cuddled up with my mother in the shelter of her bed that allowed me to feel completely safe and totally loved. It’s not unlike the feeling I have with you today, when we are having a general heart-to-heart. And I can’t tell you how much I enjoy getting to know you as a person … as a woman, as a fellow mother, as a fellow wife. Your guidance has been inspirational and I couldn’t be prouder to have a mom like you. Thank you, also, for loving me for who I am, as only a mother can. For loving me with your whole heart as I do my own children. I’ve told you this before, but it’s an awesome and unbelievably comforting feeling to know that there is someone out there who feels about me the way I feel about Hayes, Mary Beth, Sam and New Baby. I love you.

Dad, one of my favorite memories with you is one year for Mardi Gras when it was so cold outside, you and Mom decided we were going to forgo the parades. I must have been pretty bummed because I remember you enticing me with some one-on-one Daddy time with a trip to the Mall. It was the best shopping day I’ve ever had in my life. In fact, I think it was the last time I’ve ever enjoyed actually going to the Mall. It was completely empty and we had the run of the place. I remember feeling so warm inside and looking back on it as an adult, it touches me that instead of heading out by yourself for an easier (and quieter) trip, you knew it would make my day to have some alone time with you. You have always seemed to be able to anticipate my needs while still remaining one of my greatest life coaches. Your trust in me and in the person that I am has been a huge cornerstone in my life. By this, you’ve taught me to trust in myself, which can be difficult when facing a mirror of self-doubt. Parenthood is filled with seemingly unending self-doubt that takes some time to wade through until you see what is your truth. If I go to you to seek advice or counsel, you wisely rarely answer for me or tell me what I should do. And while that may have been initially frustrating a time or two, I’ve come to understand that it is only out of pure love for me and an understanding of how life truly works that you guide me to find my own answer. Thank you for believing in me enough to let me find my own way. I so appreciate the way you’ve coached me in how to live. I love you, Dad.

Patti, your love for my children can only stem from a true love of me as if I was one of your own. Anyone who watches you with them can clearly see how ingrained each of them is in your heart … and you in theirs. Their faces light up when they talk about “Mammie” and I am so very grateful that we have you in our lives. One of my favorite things to do is listen to you (and watch their faces) when you’re telling the Piranha Witch story. In fact, they asked me to tell it the other night and I just didn’t do it the justice it deserves (they well informed me of this issue, by the way). The ridiculousness of the story reminds me of what it’s like to be a child, where there is a barely existent line of what’s real and what’s not. You have taught me to embrace the ridiculousness of life with regard to my kids and stop to enjoy even the most mundane of moments with them. It’s an important lesson for any parent to learn. Thank you for loving me enough to teach it to me. I love you, too.

Papa, the strength and commitment of you and Mom’s marriage is inspirational and something to be modeled. I view you as this rock of wisdom, patience and understanding. You always seem to have the perfect words for me that help to keep me in check. They’re not often easy to digest, but nonetheless greatly appreciated because they help keep my thoughts in perspective, especially when my imagination can run wild. The best part about these words, though, is that I truly don’t think they’re intended to be a “lesson”. You’re not intentionally trying to parent me, yet it’s in your blood to guide and teach. So the end result is that I get to be extra-parented by a man who is loving and patient and kind. Thank you, Papa. I love you.

De De, your determination in life is something I am so thankful I’ve gotten a chance to witness. It’s not everyday you hear of someone’s grandmother running her own business who is totally self-sufficient. You’ve also taught me a very valuable lesson about the importance of family. I look at Jason and cannot fathom how I could possibly get on with my life should he suddenly be gone. Yet, as devastating as that would be, I find comfort in knowing that someone I hold in very high regard went through that exact situation and not only survived, but managed to raise someone as wonderful as my mother. I love how you love each of us in our own individual ways. It warms my heart when I run into someone on the street and they tell me they were at the shop and you were complimenting me for this or that. I love you, De De. Thank you for being here tonight to celebrate this important day with me.

Ryan, as I reflect over our lives together, there is a time that stands out for me as particularly memorable. And that’s when I was graduating high school and you were becoming a senior. We had a clear moment of realization that our relationship had actually grown from merely brother and sister to friends. And we were both immensely sad that the chapter in our life was coming to an end. What we didn’t see ahead for us at the time, were the next four years of college and how much fun we were going to have together. (And that we did … you are still my most favorite date of college and I look back on the Old South we attended together with the fondest of memories. I was so honored that you had chosen me to be your date.) As I look toward our future, I see a lifetime of friendship as we bond over the next chapters in our lives to come, even if we end up on slightly different paths than we thought we would. (I should probably go ahead and concede that $100 bet now, but I’m not 40 yet and I also hate losing to you.) I adore you. I truly do. I’m unsure if there’s anyone on this planet that can make me laugh like you can. You have always held a very special place in my heart and I love the fact that I hold the same in yours.

Emily, you are the sole reason I am secretly hoping this baby is a girl. (It surely isn’t because we want another screeching, overly dramatic mini-me abiding in what seems to be our increasingly shrinking house – though we do absolutely adore her [calm down, Mom]). I want for Mary Beth what I have in you: the very special bond and friendship of a sister. Because I’m certain that there is no one else on this earth that I feel the way about as I do about you. I want Mary Beth to experience sharing a room and a bed with her “Emily”; to lie in bed on Christmas Eve fantasizing with her sister about which Barbies Santa will deliver; to understand the depths of the bond between women. The love I have for you is extremely precious and absolutely unconditional and my life would feel incomplete if I couldn’t “pass down” to my own daughter what I so cherish in my own life. I can only imagine how more closely entwined our lives will become as we grow older together. I am looking forward to it, that’s certain. I love you, Em. I love you with all of my heart. You are so precious to me and I’m so thankful that you love me too.

Michael, you’ve always been very special to me. I remember anxiously awaiting your arrival, asking Mom on a pretty regular basis if “tonight was going to be the night”. I remember changing your diapers and you peeing on my Fatima jumper. I remember us calling you “two-ton Tony” because you could be bleeding from a fall during “run track run” but you’d keep on running anyway just to keep up with us. (Plus I think you weighed a lot). I remember dropping you off at a party when you were older, but before you could drive, and you giving me a kiss on the cheek before you got out of the car. That gesture was so simple, and you probably didn’t even put much thought into it, but it was so precious to me that I’ve never forgotten it. I was just your older sister then, and you my baby brother. But now, the five and a half years that separate us are quickly narrowing. And though you will always be my baby brother, you have become someone I’ve grown to trust and appreciate as a friend. I really enjoy our time together – we always seem to have good, solid conversations and I always look forward to the next time we have to spend together. I love you, Mitch. I love the man you have become and I really love what our relationship has grown into.

Jennifer, I’m unsure of how many times I can say this over the course of a couple of years before it becomes creepy, but here goes anyway. I’m so glad that you are a part of this family. I absolutely love having another sister to share my life with and none of us could be more pleased that Ryan found someone as wonderful as you to share his life with. I look forward to many years of friendship … and the laughter, tears, gardening, cooking, shopping and general time-wasting that comes with that friendship. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for offering to host this get-together. I could not imagine a more perfect way to spend my birthday: surrounded by people I love. You, of course, are one of them. I love you, Jen.

Stephanie, I couldn’t decide on whether or not it would be weird to include you in this, but ultimately decided that it didn’t matter. You’re here tonight, I love getting to know you and I think you’re a wonderful person. And I feel very honored to have you sitting here next to someone that I care so much about. I hope to one day to be calling you “sister” as well, but for now I will settle for friend. Thank you for sharing this day with me.

So here I am … accepting your well wishes (and pokes) over turning the Big Three-Oh, but also extending an enormous “thank you” for being a part of my life. Thank you again for planning a wonderful evening for me. Knowing that I was going to be with my family tonight put a smile on my face all day long. And in case I didn’t mention it, I love you.