|Really!? Is that what this looks like. Hmmm.|
Tick, tock, tick, tock - and so on and so forth.... and on and on - holy cow this clock is loud!
What kind of sick and twisted turn of events is this?! Why now after all this time does my biological clock have to start ticking? And, it’s not just ticking, it’s gonging! I hear it. I get the point. But there’s nothing I am prepared to do about it. Except maybe get another cat or buy a sweater for my dog. For me, fur babies are where it’s at.
|and... I'm ok with that.|
I am young enough by many standards to still have a child, or two of my own. The thing is I’m not willing to go through the tests and the procedures required to make it so that I might be able to conceive. Neither is my husband. He already has two children (young ladies) of his own from a previous relationship. A thought out little snip a few years ago put an end to him ever having anymore. Couple that with my comfort thus far in not wanting (I did have a couple miscarriages during a previous marriage) children of my own – we were, and have been, golden.
My motto in life has always been, “what is meant to be, will be”. I have not been meant to have children. There are alternatives I know – adoption or fostering and I suppose I could also (and I can hear some advocating it) leave my husband. It is after all a woman’s divine right, privilege and obligation to produce children into this world. Right? To those who may think this I reply with a resounding; “No way!” I have been blessed, after some trial and tribulation, to find the best man in the world for me and I’ll be damned if I toss him aside for the chance to have a child. I have everything I need in life and I’m happy and I’m grateful. So why can’t I quiet this, of late, incessant gonging inside my head and my heart?
What can I do to stop it?
I need to think of what the real driving force behind my “tick, tock” is and I have to learn not to dwell on what is not “meant to be”.
Deep down I know that my biological clock isn’t ticking because of my own desire to have a child. It is the societally acceptable thing to do but for me that isn’t a good enough. I can hear my Mom’s voice inside my head; “When are you going to give me a grandchild?”; “Well, I guess my end of the family line is going to end with you.”; and my favourite, “It hurts me to think of you being alone when I’m gone.” My heart strings tug to the point of near breaking. However they don’t break because for me, providing a child so that my mother can have a grandchild or having one to ensure that I am not alone or so that I stay young at heart are not good enough reasons to have a child. Maybe I’m just afraid of getting old? Is my biological clock clanging because it sees that soon my belfry will be full of bats and rust?
Having a child is a huge responsibility – one that if I were meant to carry out I would handle with the utmost care. It’s also something I think I would feel a deep need for within my soul. I don’t feel that and if I do it’s buried so deep it’s now impossible for me to know if it’s really me wanting a child or if it’s just an innate survival instinct that’s been built into my DNA.
My mind, at times, is a mess on this subject. Every time I come back to the same conclusion – “What is meant to be, will be.” At this point in my life my having a child will have to come down to immaculate conception. That or some other act of god or whatever metaphysical being one may believe in. If pigs fly, you know I’m pregnant. In any case it will be a newsworthy event. For now, I will carry on with a glass of wine, my sense of humour and maybe a therapist. Heaven knows it’s always nice to have a second opinion, even if they’re laughing while they give it to you.
|I'm the one in the back - unamused. HA! Sorry, I'm totally amused. Just messin.|