Yesterday’s post on aging made me sound vain I am sure. But really there are deeper emotions involved than just vanity. Today I was reminded of that ticking sound that I hear deep in my womb…the ticking away of every minute that I am not pregnant. Today, whilst wasting my lunchtime away (as I am apt to do on ridiculously busy days) on one of my many forums/community boards I found myself on BeesKneesLife. I have read her blog before, mostly because she has some awesome recipes posted and great exercises. But I hadn’t been there in a while and found out, of course, that she is pregnant (with twins – to boot!). This, combined with finding out on FB that an acquaintance is expecting and a blip on 680 News Radio about how women seem to be waiting too long to conceive – well, lets just say that aging affects more than just the wrinkles on my face (did you know that there are NAMES for different wrinkles, beyond just crows feet? Like marionette wrinkles and eleven wrinkles? Sheesh…but I digress).
When I was 8 I vowed never to have children. My mother was pregnant with my youngest brother and I went to the clinic with her once when she had to have blood taken. At the time I hated anything involving needles and when I found out that pregnancy involved a ton of blood tests I said it wasn’t likely to be a future option. I am sure my mother was relieved.
At 16 I had a pregnancy scare and I spent a week praying I wasn’t pregnant and contemplating my views on a women’s right to choose. Needless to say, I wasn’t pregnant and I am happy I never had to make that decision (but I respect that it is a woman’s right to do so).
I was engaged once, in what I like to call my former life, and my fiancé was fairly certain that he didn’t want to have children. And so, because I was in love and young, well, I just kinda figured that was fine with me and I was okay with the thought. Of course, we never even came close to having to actually deal with the issue. We never made it out of university together, let alone down the aisle.
Now I am married to Iron Man. He is awesome (you are honey – you had better be reading this). And 90% of the time we are 90% sure we will be good parents and that we want to have some (and by some I mean we don’t know how many, it really depends on who you ask and how tired we are). I don’t want to say that we have reservations, that makes it sound like we aren’t ready. It’s just that as teachers we have a really good idea of just how badly you can screw a kid up. And we know how they suck all your time and energy and patience and money up. We just want to be amazing at it and love it, it’s kinda how we feel about our jobs as teachers. Sometimes you just feel so defeated and we know that sometimes, that’s how parenting can feel. So yeah, there are days where we question if it is right for us, but we feel like that about our jobs somedays too (and yes, I get that we can get new careers but not undo kids, I get it).
So, we will have kids. That much is clear. The rest? Yeah, think foggy foggy morning heading up Hwy 25. It’s not pretty. When do we have kids? Will it be easy to conceive? Will it be difficult? Will they be healthy despite my age? How many should we have? How long should we wait between kids? If we can’t have them naturally should we do fertility? Should we adopt? Can we afford to adopt?
All I know is that I saw a teaching acquaintance at a volleyball tournament this weekend and she was about a week away from her due date and I wanted to be her. SO BADLY. But I know we have to wait til we have saved some more money so we can move into a house instead of a two bedroom condo. Then we will start trying.
There is some vanity in all this too though. I have a secret deep-seated fear that when I go off BCPs my skin will erupt into its pre-accutane state and I will gain weight. Don’t say it can’t happen, I know it can. And it scares the bejezzus out of me. I can’t handle crap skin again. I mean, I know I could, but I really don’t want to have to. And the weight thing? I mean, I realize that I am going to have to gain weight when I get pregnant but I just envision this process where it takes me two years to get pregnant and in that time I gain back the 25lbs I have just worked so hard to lose.
Either way, these are the things I contemplate late at night when I go to bed. And early in the morning on my way to work. While I am in down-dog, pouring with sweat. And every single time another friend announces that she is expecting. I try to be happy when that happens but I would be lying if I didn’t admit to the accompanying envy that comes along for the ride.