Childless at 29

When I have moments of forgetfulness and begin to panic because I'm not going to have a child in my twenties, I think things like this:

"I'm going to be an old mom. That sounds awful. I won't be able to do anything with my kids."
"What if my children suffer from birth defects because I'm old?"
"My body will be in even worse shape than in would normally after pregnancy because my skin will be old and not as elastic, and my metabolism will be slower."
"What if I wait too long and I just can't even have kids?"
"What if my parents aren't around long enough to see my children grow up, just because I've waited so long?"

...And other assorted gems. All of these things may very well be true. But the bottom line is that God is in control over when or even IF I have children, and His timing is perfect, just as it was in bringing me a husband late in the game (in my opinion, anyway).

But I do struggle. Many of my classmates from college have anywhere from one to three children, and here I am, all like, Can we just pay off our debt already and make enough money for me to quit working and have babies? I see young married couples exploding with baby-filled joy, and all I can think is, How the heck are you doing that? Just married and now a baby on the way? Must be nice to have the freedom to do that. Must be nice to not worry about being too old to have children. Must be nice to be able to afford to stay home. So then I compare and start to get jealous, and that's no good. I do wonder sometimes though, why God has chosen to not change anything about our lives so that having children would be feasible in the near future.  Still, I know the truth and I know how I should be thinking. It's just hard to not feel my chest grow tight and my eyes well up when yet another friend announces her pregnancy. I've always felt behind, and even after marriage I feel that way. I'm not trying to be insensitive-- I know many friends who are struggling with infertility, and those who aren't yet married and yearn to be and feel even farther behind. I think of your struggles too. We all have our unique struggles, and this is mine.

But on the flip side, some well-meaning friends post incessantly about their children, as if their personal lives have ceased to exist. Is that what happens with motherhood? When I see that kind of stuff, or I see how "tied down" (I know they wouldn't call it that, because they enjoy it and someday I will, too) they've become, a new kind of panic sets in and I'm suddenly very thankful that I'm childless. It's probably that I'm just really selfish, but I like being me, and I like when it's Mike and me, and I like traveling. I like popping over to the mall just because I can.

So what do I do to make myself feel better when I begin to feel panicked that I am still childless at 29? I remember all that I've gotten to do in my twenties. I finished college, went on a month-and-a-half long European backpacking trip with three girlfriends, took a chance and moved to Florida with Bestie, got to be roommates with Bestie, took road trips to Texas, Tallahassee, and Key West, lost 30 pounds, bought a new wardrobe, moved into my own apartment and decorated, learned how to cook and bake (and well!), developed my photography skills, visited Maine, Boston, Chicago, and New York, got involved politically, worked in the youth group, got engaged and married the love of my life, went to Israel, went on a Mediterranean cruise, and still yet will go to Wyoming. I have had many adventures. I enjoyed my single years and my early years with Mike. I have reveled in my independence. I have squeezed every last drop out of life.

What does that mean? It meas I'll have some pretty awesome stories to share with my kids someday, even if I'm old. And I won't regret anything, because I spent my youth on adventures. We're not guaranteed tomorrow, so I may never get any more travel opportunities like those. But I've made my memories and enjoyed my youth. The next part of my life will be parenthood (whenever that starts), and that has its own kind of adventures. Don't get me wrong- I don't think childless adventures are better than adventures with children. My dream job is to be a great wife and mom. But at the end of my life, it would have been a shame for me to look back and feel like I never did anything fun and free because I settled down so early. That's fine for some, but what I didn't realize soon enough was that apparently it's not fine for me. I needed (and I guess still need) my freedom now so that I can fully appreciate the blessings that "tie me down" later. So, if there any of you left out there who are still childless at 29, recall your adventures and be content. You've done a lot of living, and that's nothing to be sad about.

xoxo, A

30 Before 30

Today I turn 29. How could I be entering the last year of my twenties?! I remember so clearly turning 19 at college... ten years ago! I don't feel 29, if ages have a feeling. I never was able to stay up late or eat whatever I want and not gain weight, so nothing has changed! 

Just thinner eyebrows, thinner face, thinner hair... haha. 

Anyway, in August, one of my best friends created a "30 Before 30" list on her 29th birthday. These were 30 things she wants to accomplish before her 30th birthday. I liked that idea and wanted to create a list like that for myself. After this week, it seems even more appropriate. Mike's oldest sister passed away unexpectedly on Monday, at only 32 years old. I was reminded more than ever that we are not guaranteed tomorrow, and we should be numbering our days. While not all of the things on my list have eternal significance, I still felt that making goals so I don't waste my days would be an appropriate way to celebrate life, that fragile gift from God.

So here it is:

Amanda Arbia's 30 Before 30:
1. make homemade pasta
2. play Halo with Mike
3. turn my handwriting into a font
4. teach myself to use my new DSLR and editing program
5. create a family tree for any future offspring
6. find an awesome place I've never been
7. take a relaxing bath at least twice a month, but ideally once a week
8. take one photo a day
9. back up and organize all my photos
10. read Les Miserables
11. write and illustrate a children's book
12. write letters to loved ones
13. grow herbs and not kill them
14. finish wedding, Israel, and cruise scrapbooks
15. try a food I've never tried before
16. refinish the dresser myself
17. picnic with Mike and Lucia at Honeymoon Island
18. make something from Julia Child's cookbook
19. try a new and potentially drastic hairstyle
20. throw a themed party
21. finally get down to 150 lbs.
22. purge wardrobe
23. purchase classic wardrobe staples
24. cook the perfect steak
25. finish writing my Bible study on singleness
26. begin photography business
27. learn to style my hair without heat
28. go without dairy for two weeks
29. go without gluten for two weeks
30. para sail over the Gulf

Don't hate me for not putting a marathon goal up there. I just really hate running. And everyone suggests sky diving. You know what I say to that? "Heck no." I had to choose things that wouldn't be entirely dependent on money, either. At age 30, I'd like to look over my twenties with satisfaction. Already I think I can do that, but these things will help even more. More than anything, however, and impossible to really put onto a list like this, is that I want to be able to clearly see how God has grown me more into a godly woman over the years. I hope I will have more wisdom, holiness, and love for others by the time I hit 30, one year from today.

xoxo, A

Florida, I Love You, But You're Weird.

Florida is a really weird place. I love it and it's home now, but it is entirely unique. Florida is as Southeast as the United States gets, but it is a state that just can't be categorized as the South or the East. When I think of the South, I think of slow, well-fed (if you know what I mean), Baptist, and Republican. When I think of the East, I think formal, classy, upscale, and Democrat.

But Florida is none of those things, in my opinion; if it is any of those things, it's some kind of mish-mash.

I still remember when I interviewed for my job, almost exactly 6 years ago. I was eating dinner at Crispers with Bestie and a large group of people I'd never met. She was busy eating her future husband's soup (hee hee), and I was getting a geography lesson.

"Southern Florida is 'Little Cuba.' Northern Florida is 'Deep South.' Middle Florida is 'Cows.' Pinellas County is just normal."

That's really pretty accurate. I haven't spent much time in "Little Cuba," save for our "Last Hurrah" trip to Key West (which was totally awesome and everyone should go at some point in their lifetime). I also haven't spent much time in "Deep South," thank goodness, because the idea of people who still think they should have seceeded from the Union kind of frightens me. I haven't immersed myself too deeply into "Cows," either, but I've driven past them many times in my trips to Orlando, Ormond Beach, or Melbourne. I do know about Pinellas County, however, and it is this little scrap of normalcy, almost Northern-ness, smack in the middle of this awkward state. Almost everyone I meet has a connection to Chicago, Philedelphia, or New York. Those who were born and bred here have no real twang to their accents. They drive like maniacs, just like at home. Nobody is creepily nice like they are in maybe Georgia or Alabama. The only people who dress in beach wear 24/7 are the tourists. In fact, the only people who visit the beach more than a couple times a month (if that) are tourists. What a weird little Northern bubble stuck next to the Gulf of Mexico! Here are some more weird things about Florida, or at least where I live: the real estate is outrageous compared to most of the rest of the country; silkworms dangle off the trees in the spring; snowbirds. Enough said; the cold days feel colder than cold days up North; you can literally find any kind of food style you want in this area; there are no tornado sirens, yet frequent tornadoes; it's the lightning capitol of the WORLD.

But I think that's why I've found a home here. It feels normal in its weirdness. The only thing that would make me feel more at home would be snow and corrupt politicians.

xoxo, A