There was no way he knew that I was 36 and starting to worry ever so slightly about the very real possibility that I will not have children without some large degree of medical assistance. He made a joke about his sister’s biological clock. He thought I was in my 20s, and early 20s at that. He will not ever make a joke about the clock again. (I considered bursting into tears on him and really making him feel like a jerk, but I just cant cry on demand like I used to. Plus I wasn’t really sure about a man who would hit on a girl 20+ yrs younger than him until he realized she wasn’t that young, so I needed him to go away as quickly as possible.)
Well, it just so happens that you *do* wake up one day and go, oh crap, I forgot to have kids! I never expected to be 36 and single and unchilded. It’s not something I planned but it’s not exactly something I planned against either. In the more serious relationships I’ve had, I’ve been asked about the kid thing and I’ve even been asked to consider being a baby mama, which I did for about the length of a cigarette (which i continued smoking which should have given him my answer).
I can’t guarantee you that I’ll be able to pop out a kid. Just like you cant guarantee me that you won’t get hit by a car tomorrow and become a paraplegic. That’s called Life and we are in it. Que sera sera.
All I know is I’m pretty sure that on my death bed I won’t be thinking, oh man i wish i had kids. In some ways, I mean apart from the idea that God commanded us to, I think having children is pretty much the most selfish thing we can do as a species. The world is overpopulated and incapable of sustaining us as it is. Kids today have more grief and horror to deal with than arguably ever before, and on the edge of a radical shift in our global views on the environment and the powers that be’s attitudes toward it, we could be seeing the end of the planet in sight. No, I’m not really an alarmist but I do read alot of alarmist commentaries, ya know, for fun.
And then I’m not always 100% sure why we have kids any way. I mean sure there’s a lot of joy and wonder in growing up and learning all kinds of cool things. THere is nothing like watching my nephews’ eyes light up as they get totally psyched about watching a spider doing absolutely nothing at all. It’s awesome.
But there’s also so much sadness and pain and horror to face as you watch a child scared to death by the sea of faces he’s supposed to be reciting something he learned to, or listening to a child sob and scream at the sight of his own blood, or whatever else life has in store for him as he moves through the world. And even without having my own flesh and blood, I am incredibly nervous about my little friend who is starting high school in the fall; this beautiful innocent little girl has all kinds of potential disasters waiting for her just up around the bend.
And then there are people (those who border on impertinent) who ask me if I want to have a “blood relative” and I say something like, I’m pretty sure my relatives have blood. But I do know what they mean of course, and sure, I’d love to have a kid who looks like me around, well, no, better looking than me actually. And I think, well, I could just adopt cuz we all look the same anyway. I mean who knows, if I adopt, he/she could be a blood relative and I could probably get away with telling everyone he/she is and that would save us all alot of grief with the whole adoption issue that I and countless others have gone and continue to go through.
So while I totally understand 100% why some women my age and older go ahead and have kids singlehandedly (well relatively singlehandedly) and I do support anyone’s decision to do so, it’s not my plan. I can’t even take care of a cat right now. Though I do want turtles. Or maybe piranha. probably not both.
But give me some time and I’m pretty sure the clock will tick louder and the few (hundred) pages of literature I have on all manners of impregnation and/or adoption will be thoroughly studied in the not-so-distant future. Lord knows I won’t actually do anything about it. But in the meantime, I prefer to not go to baby showers.
I know I shouldn’t be *this* cynical. But I can’t help it. I look back on my own life and all its twists and turns and think I’ve turned out ok all things considered, so I have hope for their futures and I believe that there is a God Who cares for them so much more than any of us ever could. And I have to believe that, at the end of the day, Life is worth it all and it’s part of our jobs as human beings to cause the joys to outweigh the sorrows for everyone whose life paths cross ours. Including other peoples’ impressionable kids.
O ME! O life! . . . of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill’d with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)
Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew’d;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question, O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these, O me, O life?
That you are here—that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass