September 18, 2010 | View Comments

For the longest time I was against having children. I couldn’t understand why anyone would choose to have any, actually. I’d see the tantrums, hear the screaming, think of all the money that could go to fun things (read: me) instead, and listen to the parents who would thank heaven when school would start and their kids would be out of their way.

Somewhere along the way, right before I turned 37 (I’m 38 now), something changed. I started thinking about babies in a new light – their little heads, the tiny fingers, playing with them & seeing a smile. I can probably blame all the tv shows on multiples that I’d watch, not that I’d take fertility drugs and try to pop out a litter. Or maybe it was because I was housebound and thinking of a new stage in my life, were I to have one.

I didn’t tell Mark about my new line of thinking for an entire year. I always considered myself to be one of those childfree people, and I figured the feelings would pass. Mark was okay with having or not having kids, but he has more of a desire to be a dad than I ever did to be a mom. It’s not a making or breaking point for our relationship, as it can be for some people.

The conversations started happening when we were discussing my back surgery. We had high hopes that I’d be like 100% better or close to it, so we talked about going to see a doctor to see if pregnancy was even possible – and we even talked about names (I love Sophia/Sofia for a girl). But I’m not anywhere physically where I thought I’d be, so we sorta stopped talking about it. I’m certainly not getting any younger, but adoption seems way too expensive. And I wouldn’t want a relationship with my child like I have with my mom. I’d be pissed to go through all of that and then know in twenty years that my kid doesn’t want to be around me. Like in Gilmore Girls, my relationship with my mom is like Lorelai & Emily when I wish it could be more like Lorelai & Rory. Also, I’d never want to pass on Mark’s high blood pressure or my depression, thyroid disease, and back shit.

I’m a very selfish person, so it’s probably not for me. And I already consider my furbabies to be my real kids anyway, for the most part.

I guess it doesn’t matter anyway because I’m still barely capable of putting on my own socks. And I still don’t like sitting next to babies when we’re out at restaurants. It won’t be a life regret if it doesn’t happen, but I’m still surprised I was giving it any thought to begin with. And if in six months I’m out running marathons, we will sit down and revisit the discussion.

« Previous Post | Next Post »


  • nikisue

    Girl, I don't like other peoples' kids. Your own is very different than others'. <3 Kids are a metric fuckton of work, but they're great and the rewards far outweigh anything else. Yay babez.

  • You need to post more videos of your cute boy on FB. I love them, though the sound doesn't play for them on my iPhone for some reason.

blog comments powered by Disqus