At this moment, two of my closest friends have kids, Scoo has a kid (aka the Centre of my Universe, or Her Ladyship), and six people I know are going to have em in the next six months.
It’s a very strange time for me. I love all these women (well the ones I know well at any rate), and I’m so happy for them. But it also really hurts every so often, because all I have EVER wanted was to have kids, and I haven’t the faintest prospect at the moment. I even think that one of the reasons I have don’t have a Career is because I don’t care enough about anything more than I do about raising a family. Perhaps the cooking ties into this too, and perhaps that’s why cooking is something that does inspire me.
Don’t get me wrong, I have no illusions about how exhausting and difficult it is or about how much it can swallow you up, emotionally, physically and mentally. I know it’s not roses and kittens. But there’s something about kids. They love me; I love them. Maybe because I am not at all self-conscious about ‘behaving like a child.’ When I’m around a kid I have a legit excuse!
Anyway, the Bride pointed me to this lovely piece, where I got the title of this post from. I wish more people would write things like this, so people have to think about what happens between the cracks. And so they stop saying ‘Oh you’ve got tons of time!’ There’s only as much time as you want there to be before you start feeling it’s too late. If feminism is about choice, then what happens to those who choose they want children? All the freedom means someone like me–who might have had an arranged marriage and kids by now in a different time, and been perfectly happy–is wandering around in circles and questioning her sense of self and belonging.
Of course, you could say that I am not circumstantially infertile because I do want to adopt after all. Still, it’s not a financially viable option.
I am terrified though, that I’ll be her in the end. Maybe I should be a Montessori school teacher, or run a daycare!