30 and finally figuring it out

Here I am, perched on the first new piece of furniture I've ever purchased, with a modest yet perfect Christmas tree to my left, and my gorgeous new baby sleeping to my right. I'm creating my very first blog post, inspired both by the Death Cab For Cutie album "Plans" that plays in the background, and the newly found clarity that seemed to be injected into me on my thirtieth birthday. I'll be thirty-one this coming January, which means I have about eleven months of said clarity under my belt...almost an entire year.To say it has been the best year of my life would be the understatement of my lifetime.

 
Finding Matthew was the beginning of this "new leaf", and it seems we both knew that from the start. We got together January of 2011, and made it official a month later. He moved in with me in April; we were engaged that September and married a little over a month after that. That was our first year, during which we did quite a bit of exploring and adventuring. We decided soon after marrying that we wanted to have a baby immediately, despite the fact that neither of us wanted children prior to getting together. We got pregnant the first time we tried, and we brought Harper home from the hospital on our first wedding anniversary.

 
We moved quickly, but the only way to explain it is that suddenly things just made sense. Our friends thought we were crazy, and we lost more than a few. You really find out which of your friends are just drinking buddies when you get pregnant, trust me. With my thirtieth birthday came clarity, yes, but it also came with sobriety (My birthday is January 3rd, and I became pregnant on January 13th). Coincidence? I can't tell you how good it feels to remember every single day of (almost) an entire year. My anxiety and depression, my self loathing and guilt, all went away along with the partying.

Everything just fell into place for me. I could fill this entire post with cliches, and it wouldn't even approach describing it. My twenties were filled with a series of failed relationships, hundreds of hangovers, living paycheck to paycheck, twelve apartments, dozens of friendships that came and went, and the desperate pursuit of love and/or attention. I wish I could say I have no regrets but that would be a total fucking lie. BUT, it was fun...and without that decade of debauchery there would be none of this wonderful clarity I currently write about. And given the fact that my husband was married to my friend Sam during the majority of said decade, there would be no Matthew and Rhae Hoskins, and there would be no Harper Ann.

It just feels good, that's all.