A Look at 30: A Birthday Reflection

The past few years, I’ve loved watching Instagram stories of old friends turning 30—some surprised by loved ones, some throwing huge bashes. It’s been fun to imagine what theme I might pick, whether I’d want a big celebration or a quiet gathering to honor the close of one decade and the start of another.

Here’s the thing about Taurus babies (late April to mid-May): our birthdays fall at one of the busiest times of the year (in my humble opinion). People are graduating, finishing school, planning vacations, closing out work quarters. There’s just not a lot of space for celebrating others—and as someone who gets overwhelmed easily and knows my social boundaries, I get it. We only have so much bandwidth as humans. We can’t be everywhere at once.

So, with that reality in mind—and my own schedule stacked with weddings and elopements—I knew I needed a Plan B for my birthday.

Here’s a little peek into April 23rd, 2025: my 30th birthday.

I woke up at the ripe hour of 5 AM to get ready for a Barre class, something I was genuinely excited about. A big goal of mine going into my 30s was to move my body more—and do it early. I still love sleeping in, but waking up early has been huge for my schedule and productivity (even if I do hit snooze a lot).

Just before leaving, I caught a glimpse of something hanging from the ceiling. At first, I thought it was an alien head and that I was about to get got—but once I flipped on the lights, I saw a cluster of confetti-filled balloons floating overhead. A sweet surprise Andrew set up while I was sleeping.

After a great workout (and even better birthday wishes from the Barre ladies I’ve gotten to know over the past year), I headed home to shower and prep for some part-time work.

Fun fact: I work a few hours a week at First Presbyterian Church in downtown Knoxville designing their bulletins. It’s one of my small joys, and I’m so lucky to have found this little work home.

After a few hours at FPC, I picked up Andrew and we made a little birthday stop at one of my favorite places—our local bookshop, Neighborly Books here in Maryville. We went to pick up Emily Henry’s newest release, Great Big, Beautiful Life (you know I had to have it on release day). After that, we swung by Chick-fil-A for lunch—nothing fancy, just something easy and comforting to hold us over.

When we got home, we found the sweetest surprise: my family had Doordashed Crumbl Cookies—my absolute favorite. I changed into comfy clothes, put on the new Short and Sweet (Deluxe) vinyl Andrew gifted me that morning, and started plugging away. Writing, Pinterest ads, blog edits—it was a low-key work afternoon, but honestly? One of the happiest.

That night, Andrew made reservations at our favorite local spot, Bella. I threw on a dress and some makeup and we headed out for wine, pasta, and—of course—a celebratory sparkler dessert.

We came home full and happy, but still pulled out the gorgeous cake Andrew had picked up for me—made by Art of Cakes, one of my go-to vendors for all things sweet and celebratory (and a preferred vendor in my elopement packages!). Andrew lit each candle one by one and started singing happy birthday. A solo voice—my favorite voice—the only one I needed.

But I couldn’t help myself. I had to sing along. So I did.

There in our tiny kitchen, in our tiny apartment, in our tiny town, Andrew and I sang happy birthday. Just us.

And all at once, I realized: I am so loved. Loved by so many people in my life. And most of all—loved by Andrew. Loved by me.

I love the little girl running barefoot through the church.

I love the girl riding her bike through the cul-de-sac on Westcove Court.

I love the girl jumping into the deep end for the first time at Bob and Pat’s.

I love the girl slipping on pointe shoes for the very first time.

I love the girl choreographing dance after dance in her bedroom.

I love the girl who missed her 1st grade Valentine’s Day party—only to find out her new sibling wasn’t a sister, but a brother.

I love the girl who met that little brother for the first time.

I love the girl who danced, who sang, who gave the biggest hugs.

I love the girl who sat with a broken heart, and the one who felt it overflow.

I love the girl who didn’t do great in school but gave it her best.

I love the girl who knew she needed out of a toxic place—and left.

I love the girl who scribbled in her pink hoodie journal about summer camp, boys, and big dreams.

I love the girl who thought she wasn’t good enough.

I love the girl who found out she was.

I love the girl who made choices she regretted.

I love the girl who is healing from those choices.

I love the girl who found someone who truly, deeply loves her back.

I love that little girl.

All of her.

In a blink, I blew out my candles and made a wish—just like that little girl did on her very first birthday.