As I reached the age of 37 this past January, I found myself reflecting on my own mother at that same age. I recall a moment when we were strolling down the street; she was guiding my younger sibling in a stroller while I lagged behind. Out of curiosity, I asked her how old she was. She turned to me, her dark hair swaying in the breeze, and replied, “Thirty-seven.” In that moment, I thought to myself, thirty-seven is truly a grown-up age. I watched as she hurried along, her vibrant blue dress a blur as she pulled me across the street.
At that time, my mother was navigating the challenges of life as a single parent, having separated from my father when my sister was born. I absorbed the stress surrounding us during those years, yet in that fleeting moment, I simply saw her essence—a beautiful, strong, imperfect woman, wholly herself, distinct from her role as my mother.
The years between her 37 and when I noticed her start to dye her hair and dress more conservatively are a blur to me. But now, here I stand at the same age, noticing the fine lines appearing on my face after restless nights and the silver strands in my hair as I pull it back into a ponytail.
What strikes me most about being 37 is the undeniable recognition that this is it—I am a grown-up, living my life. I have two energetic sons, a supportive spouse, a rented duplex, an aging Honda, and a fish named Reddy. Many of the experiences I once feared in my youth—sex, marriage, childbirth, and raising kids—have already unfolded in my life.
I am aware that there are more significant milestones ahead. The thought of my children becoming teenagers or eventually leaving home is unfathomable. I’ve heard about the physical changes that accompany aging, and I find myself irrationally anxious about my first colonoscopy, while mammograms somehow do not worry me. The prospect of losing my parents is too overwhelming to contemplate; I hope to have many years ahead before facing that reality, ideally after my children have grown up and become more independent.
Yet, I understand that these events are beyond my control. I know people lose their parents before they are ready, and the truth is, you never truly feel prepared for such losses.
So here I am, navigating this life with my children, husband, and pet fish. I grapple with the modern vices of technology, indulge in a secret stash of chocolate, and prepare to lace up my running shoes as spring arrives. My mantra as I embark on my fitness journey is simple: “I can do this. I can manage this life.”
One of the most profound developments in my transition into my late thirties is my growing capacity to handle the anxiety that has shadowed me since childhood—or at least to defiantly dismiss it. My anxiety has fluctuated over the years, sometimes peaking during challenging times. Even when it subsides, it often lingers, reminding me of life’s impermanence. I’ve spent much of my adult life questioning whether the blessings I hold—my marriage, my children—are truly mine to cherish.
As a child of divorce, it’s natural to grapple with the fear that something may disrupt the family life I’ve created. However, I have learned to cope. I practice meditation and focused breathing. These strategies help, but what truly allows me to embrace my life is the passage of time and the distance from my childhood. It has afforded me the clarity to release my fears and accept my life as it is.
I often wonder how my children perceive me at 37. Do they ever observe me from a distance, as I did with my mother? As we walk to school, do they notice the warmth with which I hold their hands? Can they sense the bittersweet reality of my letting go, day by day, as they venture into the world? Do they see me as flawed yet open, whole yet broken, healed yet still growing?
As a child, I longed for the experience of growing older, and now I understand why. There’s a sense of comfort in knowing there’s no turning back; I have moved past the burdens of my past. I am ready to be present, to embrace my true self, comfortable in my own skin. This life—beautiful, delicate, complex, and exhilarating—is all I have. The only thing left to do is immerse myself in it, cherish the moments with my loved ones, and always remember how fortunate I am.
For further insights into home insemination and related topics, consider exploring some of our other blog posts, including this one. If you’re looking for ways to support your fertility journey, check out this resource that offers valuable supplements. Additionally, this article provides excellent information regarding pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary:
As I reflect on turning 37, I acknowledge the complexities of adulthood, from parenting and marriage to managing anxiety and embracing change. My journey has made me appreciate life’s impermanence and the importance of cherishing the moments with loved ones. With the wisdom gained from experience, I’m ready to embrace my true self and navigate the beautiful chaos of life.