Monday, April 20, 2015

Debate to Procreate.

(Best accompanying hashtags ever)

The procreation debate is a constant for me, and I flip-flop between the following two (and very extreme) positions: 

I really, really, really want kids--like yesterday--but my childbearing years are over! I'm already so old, and I'll be ancient by the time I even have a chance to start a family. I mean, I'm already twenty-nine, which may as well mean my eggs are forty-nine. I'll be sixty-nine by the time I even find a man, pregnant at seventy, and eighty-nine when my kid starts college! More than one child? Nahhht gonna happen. Being around for grandchildren? Forget about it. But at least my life insurance will cover the cost of college tuition for my one poor and then parent-less child.  (Which will be oh, about 100K by then, in 2084.) 


What the fuck am I worried about? I'm only twenty-nine, and I have plenty of years to live before I even think of bringing a child into the world. Plenty. Of. Years. While all of my friends are popping out kids, I'm all what country am I going to next?! Another margarita on a Tuesday? MAKE IT A DOUBLE.  I can't even imagine bringing a child into the world now; I have so, so much more living and learning to do, so many more countries I want to see--all without having to yet lug car seats and strollers and diaper bags with me. Oh, and the child. Can't forget the child.

As previously mentioned, two extremes. My first point, being the irrational and emotionally-charged thought of simply missing my window for motherhood, and my second point, which is not an attack on anyone with children, does not mean my carefree life is somehow superior to those with children. Most of my friends have one or even FOUR kids (hey, Lyn!), and that's how their cards were dealt. Sometimes I'm a bit envious, I'm not going to lie, and I do wish I had a partner and family already started. Whenever I'm in one of those whiny moods about wanting greener grass, my mother always reminds me that every single one of my friends with children live in Massachusetts. (Not a knock to anyone living in Massachusetts either.) It's just the difference of lifestyles, really, and I choose this one.

I moved out to LA when I was eighteen and haven't once regretted it. Especially not this past winter, because thank the good lawd, I was chillen in sunny SoCal, responding to everyone telling me how "lucky" I was with: "But I choose to move to LA ten years ago, weather being a reason why. It's not luck, it's a choice, people!" (Had to quickly vent about that one.)

I do feel I have inherent motherly skills, or that innately, I'm the mothering kind. I was ten when my mom had my sister, and twelve when my brother came along. I was a nanny in college and a newborn photographer after I graduated, and absolutely could not wait for the day I had my very own baby. I had a conversation at dinner on Friday surrounding the general idea of  "everything happens for a reason;" I don't really think that way, apparently nor does my neighbor-friend, as She interjected: "No, life happens." I could not agree more. And each life is so vastly different than the next.

Maybe it will take several years for me to find a partner I want to start a family with, or hell, maybe I'll do it on my own. But there are perks of waiting, too: more money to be made, more knowledge to impart, more communication skills and patience to be learned. I'll just have to sit back and see what lies ahead, and hopefully ease my anxiety about it all in the meantime.

1 comment:

  1. "Someday, our mom is going to be the best mom in the world." - Nellie

    "LOOKOUT, MOTH!!!" - Ziggy