I realize that many women decide to have a child when they are a good ten years younger than I am. And I suppose I could have done the same (though having a pre-teen right now seems unbearable. And for the record, I hope that Hannah Montana and High School Musical are things of the past when our little one reaches that age.) But at twenty five, or six or seven, I don't think I was ready. And this is why.
Something remarkable happened in my thirties. I woke up and knew the woman I was - and I liked her. Sure, I still wished my legs were longer, that my hair had just the slightest bit of body, that I was less anxious and less critical. I still wished I could sing, and cook, and play the guitar. I wished I had better housekeeping skills, and was willing to paint with broader strokes and take bigger risks. But the point is; I suddenly knew and understood these things about me - and quite frankly ten years ago, I did not.
Of course I want to continue to change and grow. And, I will still aim for new goals. But I'm excited to spend the next few years getting to know this new addition to our family and not have to spend quite so much time getting to know myself.