Look Who's 40

I remember my 40th birthday like it was yesterday.  My friends called to congratulate me on entering the "40 and Fabulous Club."  My family called to find out where we'd be gathering for the party.  My children paced back and forth waiting for me to bop out of the room and shout "today is my birthday."  I did not welcome everyone's enthusiasm.  In fact, it was a very dark day for me.

That day, my 40th birthday, marked a nearly 3 year journey for me.  For the first time since being a teenager, I stayed in bed all day.  I didn't want to face the world.  That day marked the end for me.  It was the end of my youth.  On this day, statistically I was more likely to die from an illness than an accident--how terrible.  It was also the first day of a year long journey where my baby, my oldest born would enter her senior year of high school.

That day, my 40th birthday, was not one of my better days.  I was engulfed in a dark cloud of blah. My cloud hung over me just like a cartoon.  Everything that I saw on television, discussed with my family, or observed as I drove down the street made me feel like the end was near.  My life, as I had known it, was over.  Everything that I had been working for was done.  My oldest child, whom I'd born 7 weeks early, held on my bare chest to show my love and stayed up with countless nights was leaving me.

On that day, I had counted more gray hair than I had previously admitted.  I also fell into a funk about my children.  All of the energy, all of the time, so that they could do exactly what I had always wanted them to do--grow into healthy adults...  I was petrified that they would each leave me one by one and never come back.  Leaving me alone with him, the dog, and my sorrow...

A few years later and all is well.  My oldest daughter is a happily adjusted college student and my other children are just fine.  I live out of my car, I've invested in about three months worth of frozen dinners, and wine or coffee is a part of all three meals (sometimes and).