When I was a little girl at summer camp, I'd send my mother the first letter on July 10 reminding her that my birthday was three month's hence.
August 10, September 10… all were days leading up to that magical one: October 10, the anniversary of my entry into the world.
On the morning of my birthday, I would wake to a house festooned with banners and balloons, all proclaiming, "Rebecca is eight!" "Happy Birthday, Beck!" "We love the birthday girl!" Depending on whatever color I loved that year, they'd be green or pink or blue or magenta, and my mother would be waiting with some sort of particularly elaborate breakfast and the whole day would be spent celebrating… me.
On November 10, I'd remind her that she had only 11 months left to plan for the next one.
How and how those were the days.
These days, on August 10, my eyes skit away from the calendar. By September 10, I sigh deeply and begin the month-long process of bracing myself. In the week leading up to October 10, I try to steel myself for it, and -- new tactic -- even try to convince myself that I am happy about the day.
I tell myself that lives aren't measured only by being married and having children.
It's not that I am another year older… it's not that my life is passing me by without moving forward (my nieces and nephews are another year older, stunningly old -- kids now, no longer babies). I tell myself that lives aren't measured only by being married and having children… my life is rich, full of friends and family, a great job, and I even have the privilege of living in Israel -- fulfilling a life-long dream. I can look back at the last five years and claim real achievements -- emotional growth, solidified relationships with family, goals met.
But, somehow, when October 10 rolls around, all I see is the fact that I am no longer the little girl thrilling to magenta balloons… that I don't have anyone to make special breakfasts for, the way my mom made them for me.
It's a burden the rest of the year. I feel it, and when the yearning occasionally overpowers me -- for an hour sometimes, and sometimes for a day, sometimes longer -- I am sickened with myself. There is so much good in my life, and yet all I see is the lack. There is so much good in my life, and yet, sometimes, every moment aches.
Believe it or not, I have a naturally happy disposition. And, sometimes, when I am taken over with longing for a life other than the one I have -- work, home, work, home, date, doesn't work out, work, home -- I wonder just what it is that women who don't have the incredible blessing of a sunny outlook go through. What do their days look like to them? How do they manage to get themselves out of bed -- to another day that just seems to remind you with every moment that, for whatever reason, you can't have what you think you were created for? Why did God give me such a loving nature if I wasn't meant to have people to give to, and people to spoil -- the best way to be challenged and grow?
And, yes, monotony, and struggles, and disappointments. Because being married and being a mother doesn't mean that your life suddenly becomes easy and perfect. If anything, it brings with it a set of enormous challenges that I can fathom only because I've watched so many of my friends struggle with them.
My life is my own -- marriage and especially motherhood make you utterly beholden to others. A wife must always consider her husband, and a mother must always, in some ways, give her life over to the needs of her children. Their schedules, their requirements, their moods… they dictate the ins and outs of nearly every moment of their mother's day.
There's no more leisurely reading, no more running out at the drop of a hat, no more deciding to go somewhere on a whim. Sleeping through the night becomes a major accomplishment.
And yet, I think, it must all be so utterly worth it when your child opens up his eyes and sees you there in the morning.
So I remind myself of this: Of my independence, of the way that I can expand my mind and challenge it while it is still free of concerns over bottle temperatures and peanut allergies, when I can still go to a lecture without worrying about tracking down a babysitter, when I can make what I want for dinner or not bother going shopping for two weeks. I can sleep late and go away on weekends and dispose of my disposable income however I like.
I even try to convince myself that dating is fun -- after all, almost all the men I've ever gone out with are good and kind, if not the man I should marry -- and that my life has an excitement and variation my married friends somehow envy. After all, they sometimes tell me this.
And I see how hard marriage can sometimes be, and how one is forced to grow, accommodate and bite one's tongue. It's not all wine and roses.
And still I long for the days when I will roll my eyes because my husband, yet again, didn't change the toilet roll, or is being a pig-headed guy, or has his annoying friends over again.
Will I be so beaten down by the weight of all this longing and impatience and yearning and frustration that I won't even recognize him when he finally appears?
On those days, will I remember how I cried at night after another date with someone else who wasn't him, wondering how on earth I am ever going to find the man with whom I'm going to build my life?
Will I remember the frustration of trying again? Will I even recognize him when he does come, or will I be so beaten down by the weight of all this, of all this longing and impatience and yearning and frustration, that I won't even recognize him when he finally appears?
What I wonder the most is how I can bear all this -- all this whining and kvetching and feeling ridiculously sorry for myself -- and still be a bearable person? People tell me that I am cheery and sunny and funny, and men I've dated have even paid me the dear compliment that unlike so many other "women my age," I'm "not bitter." The sadness inside me apparently has eaten away only that which is too deep to be seen.
The worst thing is that those who are closest to me know, and must feel, the murk and the whining and the oh-so-not-sunny part.
A friend who just suffered a miscarriage -- her second in a half a year -- told me that sometimes she feels that if someone touched her, she might crumble away from sadness. My heart went out to her; she is so good, and I don't know any better than she does why God sends such challenges her way.
I admire her courage though… and her steadfast belief that whatever comes to us is somehow necessary for the growth we have to do in life.
There are times when I feel like it's enough. I've grown enough from these challenges. I'm ready to move on to the next set.
And when I do, when I am annoyed with my husband and exhausted from the kids, I just hope that I'll be able to remember what I felt now… and be grateful, so grateful, for what I'll have then.


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(132) Anonymous, January 17, 2013 9:37 AM
something to consider..
I completely know how you feel and my heart goes out to you...there were days I cried when I woke and yes, I had friends and always many many dates ( I felt lucky at least in that respect but I can still remember the pain of each date "failure"). Something to consider, stop looking for "Mr Right" and look for someone who you think can possibly be your best friend when you are old and gray. Then give him a chance even if he does not meet all your "checklist" items. Also, go out of your "regular" dating circles... I was in NYC many years ( a very challenging dating place) and then took my self to Israel to study for two years (not a yeshivah, an eMBA program) and with luck (call in G-d if you wish) met my husband (an Israeli not in my eMBA class) shortly after arriving here; we now have an incredible daughter. Our marriage is not easy due to cultural differences and other matters but yes, I remember how "uneasy" I was single for so long. There is a saying "change your place / change your luck" ...there is something to it. Try something new that YOU will enjoy and that is for YOU....nothing guaranteed but at least if you do not meet someone then you will have done something fun! You need to get out of your known circles and dating scene if you are confining yourself to specific circles. Best of luck! I hope this helps... ( I know you probably heard such words before but think seriously about it) As a person married in a challenging marriage and from a completely loving home, I can tell you that much about meeting the "perfect" someone is about luck but many many compromise in their marriage choices and then make really nice marriages that make them happy...if you are at an age when you need to start worrying about children then consider mr. "less than perfect" and give him a chance / give yourself a chance that you never gave yourself before...
(131) Anonymous, January 9, 2013 7:22 PM
Me me me
The fact that you began your article with the old memory about how everyone was focused on you and your birthday, making yourself feel special, is antithetical to a Jewish approach. If you want to be married focus on the other - daven for your bashert, help others, focus on the other other other, the me me me attitude will melt away revealing a special, unique individual who is serving the creator, and focused on real values.
avraham turetsky, January 22, 2013 12:48 PM
presumptuous comment
Dear Anonymous, While your overall message is extremely important and 100% correct, I am not sure why you felt justified in diagnosing the author with selfishness based on the feelings she says she felt on her birthday. Not only is such conclusion unwarranted, but there are so many nicer ways to relay this message. And since insentivity is often a function of selfishness, I am wondering if you are perhaps projecting. But I do agree with the general substance of your message of davening and being other-focused as it applies to older singles and to all of us, as we seek to connect to people and, of course, to the Almighty.
(130) Anonymous, December 31, 2012 1:56 PM
I feel the same
You are honest to convey your feeling. I am still looking for Mr Right but I think I'll end up being single forever. There are many sacrifices from looking after children to accommodating him. You will not feel tired and difficult if you love him. Of course she has to love her guy enough to marry him. It is disheartened to see other girls attached with men who have the qualities that you like and start to wonder why you never meet one.
(129) Anonymous, December 9, 2012 7:10 PM
19 year old guy.
I feel amazed by this. Im 19, male, live in a fraternity house, and connect exactly with what has been said. I find myself asking how on earth the parallel of souls is so strong here? Im not religious ATM, and have met 1 jewish believer in my adult life. What really matters in all of this, is that despite all the tangible differentiation the writer and I have,I feel like none exist. with the only exception being childhood birthdays, Im the same soul or person in a manly 19 year old body. Im cheerful, happy, and content yet broken and in despair for I have only had one official relationship in my life and have had the most ridiculously barren dating life one could have at 19. The mental depth engrained within is set, and destines me at private depression, successful career and an empty hole where relationships go. Its infuriating the way dating runs its course, and in historical nature i would be the perfect catch. But since social norms and influence coordinate attraction, Im not normal or something to objectify in relationship. Im not unattractive, I can begin a relationship, and go on dates, but the only ones that go anywhere or last any amount of time are the ones where a person had been forced to spend time with me over a few weeks. Only girlfriend i ever had, was from a trip to germany where I spent one month as a foreign traveler and exchange student amongst a group of 20 german students from the hometown. And even that I tore up on the winning note that I broke it off for she wasnt as smart as I would need a friend to be.. I apologize that this is somewhat of a venting writeup from me, but it does feel therapeutic to know that I can see others, just like me, struggling with the things i struggle with. its like someone grabbing me while im in the ditch from beside me and saying im here too. Somehow theres a way out of this, for goodness sake im not much different than others, but I suffer the same debilitating and ambiguous ailment that hasn't be shed yet.