In a couple of months, I will leave age 23 behind forever. I realize that I am still young, but for the first time in my life, I am not happy about reaching my next birthday. When I was a kid, I couldn't imagine myself not wanting to get older. Now, I can't imagine wanting my age to increase. For as long as I can remember, I have had well-established dreams and goals for my life. By the time I hit middle school, I had a plan. I would go to a small university, preferably one like Camp bell University, and major in something government related. Hopefully a fellow I wanted to date would come along during that time. I would graduate with honors and use that education to make a difference in the lives of the unborn and their mothers facing crisis pregnancies. Marriage would follow on the heels of college, preferably to a man modeled after my childhood best friend. While I continued to work with ministry to the unborn, my husband and I w...