Thirty.

Never thought I'd hit the big 3-0 so soon.  I had grand plans of celebrating it with my family and friends - doily garland, a simple frosted cake with bunting and party hats. You know, a Pinterest-worthy mini party. It's a milestone birthday after all. 

Then Life decided to change things up a little bit.

So, instead of having that party I'd conjured in my head, my first 24 hours of being 30 was spent nursing and taking care of Lil' J. Without our mothers' help. All on my own for the first time.

There was no cake, no fancy dinner, and the hubby and I hardly spent any time together because I was nursing Lil' J all the time. (She's such a snacker!)

I shed momma tears because I got so   worried when Lil' J cried inconsolably, spit out milk, and sounded like she caught a chill.

My thirtieth birthday turned out to be very different from what I expected. 

Despite it being so 'eventful', it was better.

Because I've grown. With new momma responsibilities, I'm no longer that little girl I used to be.

* The husband turns 30 this year too. I gave him the best birthday present by making him stay in the delivery ward the night before his birthday.