you don't have children? really? don't you want them?
nope, i've got yours and i'm going to give them back after they exhaust me, probably with a new toy that makes a lot of noise. *grin*
as a child, i was a loner who had no siblings and was very good at entertaining myself. i didn't see my cousins often, and there weren't many kids in the neighborhood. i only babysat once in my youth and that was a small disaster. generally, i hung out with adults.
in high school, girls were talking about getting married and having kids while i stared at the floor and grimaced. i was not really keen on that idea, particularly the actual birthing part. i found it horrifying. even worse was the constant tending of these critters. i couldn't imagine the commitment and work.
every time i would date someone and get serious, my friends would ask if i was going to get married and have kids.
umm, no. why would i do that? when i got engaged the first time, then the second and third time, the immediate question after the announcement was, will you have children?
umm, no, why would i do that?i have a lot of respect for the act of raising a child. in my eyes, for starters if you even consider it, not only should you be practical and dedicated, but there better be some serious commitment and love between the parents. i doubted my relationships would last, so i quickly deduced kids weren't for me.
the question became a point of torment with my family and a joke among my friends. i was far too selfish with my time and my interests. having a child became a measure of commitment, the ultimate gift that i would give to a man, to a relationship, to myself--to build a family. in other words, that ain't gonna happen, but if it does, you know i mean business.
this sometimes became an issue in relationships. the topic would come up and i would brush it off with a funny comment and remind him that there was plenty of time.
who's in a rush? i was a master of deflection and to be honest, not once did i look at my partner and think, that is a man i want to build a family with. the concept remained alien.
even though i didn't want my own, the tiny folk gravitated to me. i was a jungle gym and playmate of mythic proportions. even though they were a mystery to me and i didn't have the first idea what to do with them, somehow i ended up giggling at the kids table and peeling them off of me at the end of the evening.
however, the first baby that entered the world of my circle of friends was a terrifying event. my friend kept telling me to hold the baby who was only hours old. i was certain that i would drop her, and of course, she took a deep breath and wailed with gusto as soon as she was in my arms. crap. that was a sign that fully reinforced the childless road.
then, i got married. yikes, now the heat was really on. it'd taken me eight years to actually sign on the dotted line and now the kid question came hard.
uh, no thanks. i still did not have that calling. besides, my ex-husband had a child and she'd had children. i was called grandma before i was called wife.
then my friends at work began to have babies and strange thoughts arrived in my head. it was really more about all my friends having tykes than my own desire. i talked about it with my ex-husband. ultimately, reason won out. i quickly dropped the topic and soon after ended the marriage.
another relationship and the question of children.
uh, no, why would i do that? but, this time my humor didn't work. it became a major point of contention and the whole thing tanked. goodness, my track record is awful!
all the time, my doctor was checking in on me. thinking about it?
nope. the belly dancing has you in great shape for birth; it'd be no problem.
nope. you're closing in on forty.
nope, nope, nope.the year i turned forty-one i was diagnosed with pcos and found out that getting pregnant might be difficult. well, i suppose it was a good thing i never wanted a baby. this worked out just fine. i went on my merry little way rather relieved.
then something happened. one morning i woke up early and in the silence slipped into a daydream. it was a cool and overcast day at the beach and i was sitting with a dark haired little boy on my lap. the boy suddenly caught sight of someone and leaped excitedly into the sand. i watched him run up a dune into the arms of the man i was watching sleep next to me.
i'll never forget that feeling. right then, i wanted nothing more in this world than to live that moment. i wanted to build a family with this man and it was the most overwhelming feeling i've ever known.
this time the question never came, and of course, the relationship didn't work out. however, i feel like it was a gift to have had that moment--to have felt that much love.
in less than a week, in all likelihood, the child option will be taken off the table. it isn't as though i'm in a relationship where it can be discussed. my doctor is no longer encouraging, but quite contrary. there is always adoption, but i would never intentionally try to raise a child alone.
with all of this on the table, it should be an easy thing to let go... but it isn't. i feel broken and inadequate. logically, i know this is the right decision and that i am more than this one thing.
but, that little boy running through the sand? i sort of wish that could have happened.
