I’ve always known it’s been there. Hell I’ve had my baby names picked out since I was 15 (that’s not a joke either). But suddenly this clock has gotten quite loud. And a little obnoxious.
It’s like a looming deadline I’m supposed to meet. If there is one thing grad school taught me it’s to go completely batshit crazy over deadlines. Because obviously if you don’t meet the arbitrary deadlines people set for you then well…the world will probably end, all the puppies in the world will be snatched up, every ice cream cones will be taken from crying children, and you will die a sad, lonely death. Obviously.
See that puppy? It would be gone if you don't meet your deadlines!
So now as if right on cue, the baby deadline has decided to rear it’s ugly head. Being the over-analyzing therapist that I am, I’ve already figured out why this is happening right now. But since you can’t see inside my head I’ll write a nice pretty list of things:
1. I’m almost 30. Ok so I’m only 28, which in women’s neurotic math minds means that we’re basically 30. And 30 is the age everyone apparently freaks the f*^$ out (I read about in Glamour, which must mean it must be true). I think it’s also the year women take inventory: Husband – check. House – check. 2.5 kids – check. Dog – check. Fabulous collection of designer shoes and handbags – check. Mental breakdown – check, circle, underline, asterisk. Antidepressants and fully stocked wine closet – oh hell yes.
2. My hips aren’t getting any smaller. Seriously I don’t know how I squeezed my tiny ass into some of my jeans because these days no matter how many squats and lunges I do, these curves ain’t going nowhere. In the words of Fantasia “Whoa look at that booty, damn she got them baby making hips for sure!” (yea I didn’t know that was a song either)
3. I’m now attending parties where everyone has kids. Like seriously everyone. And they all talk about their boobs….and hemorrhoids….and poop…and leaky nipples. It’s all very fun, especially when I’m about to dig into my plate of food. Just somehow your kid’s pinworms in his butt make me want to throw-up everywhere. (Seriously don’t Google pinworms unless you want to have nightmares tonight. Just don’t, like for serious).
4. Beyonce pregnant. Yes this made the list.
5. I’ve been married for 2 years. Which means we’re either in dog or baby territory, although I think we’ve bypassed the dog stage and are headed straight for cribs and pacifiers. I mean really we should be buying a house right now (according to the married people rule book), but seeing that I had to get all crazy and go off to California for grad school I threw a wrench in the timeline. So I dunno, is it house, dog, then baby? Or baby, dog, then house? Or maybe live in your parents basement, go gay club hopping, and star in a reality television show? Damnit I never remember the order.
and
6. I really want to be a mom.
In all seriousness, I do. Like a lot. Like every ounce of me wants to raise a family. To be a mom, a really really good mom. And watch my husband become a father, a really kind and sweet father.
But I know logistically right now is not the right time. I don’t have a job lined up for next year, don’t know where we’ll be living, and I haven’t fully figured out my medical issues .
I know there is no perfect timing (my perfectionism gene is still struggling to understand this one) and there are a lot ends to be tied up in my life right now. Adding a child to the mix of stressful life decisions isn’t the best idea, for me or anyone else. So while evolution has pre-programmed my body to want kids ASAP, my 21st century mindset is telling me that I need some more time. Now it’s just up to me to have a little patience with it all.
Are you feeling the push to have children? Or if you have children, how did you know it was the “right” time?
I’ve always known it’s been there. Hell I’ve had my baby names picked out since I was 15 (that’s not a joke either). But suddenly this clock has gotten quite loud. And a little obnoxious.
It’s like a looming deadline I’m supposed to meet. If there is one thing grad school taught me it’s to go completely batshit crazy over deadlines. Because obviously if you don’t meet the arbitrary deadlines people set for you then well…the world will probably end, all the puppies in the world will be snatched up, every ice cream cones will be taken from crying children, and you will die a sad, lonely death. Obviously.
See that puppy? It would be gone if you don't meet your deadlines!
So now as if right on cue, the baby deadline has decided to rear it’s ugly head. Being the over-analyzing therapist that I am, I’ve already figured out why this is happening right now. But since you can’t see inside my head I’ll write a nice pretty list of things:
1. I’m almost 30. Ok so I’m only 28, which in women’s neurotic math minds means that we’re basically 30. And 30 is the age everyone apparently freaks the f*^$ out (I read about in Glamour, which must mean it must be true). I think it’s also the year women take inventory: Husband – check. House – check. 2.5 kids – check. Dog – check. Fabulous collection of designer shoes and handbags – check. Mental breakdown – check, circle, underline, asterisk. Antidepressants and fully stocked wine closet – oh hell yes.
2. My hips aren’t getting any smaller. Seriously I don’t know how I squeezed my tiny ass into some of my jeans because these days no matter how many squats and lunges I do, these curves ain’t going nowhere. In the words of Fantasia “Whoa look at that booty, damn she got them baby making hips for sure!” (yea I didn’t know that was a song either)
3. I’m now attending parties where everyone has kids. Like seriously everyone. And they all talk about their boobs….and hemorrhoids….and poop…and leaky nipples. It’s all very fun, especially when I’m about to dig into my plate of food. Just somehow your kid’s pinworms in his butt make me want to throw-up everywhere. (Seriously don’t Google pinworms unless you want to have nightmares tonight. Just don’t, like for serious).
4. Beyonce pregnant. Yes this made the list.
5. I’ve been married for 2 years. Which means we’re either in dog or baby territory, although I think we’ve bypassed the dog stage and are headed straight for cribs and pacifiers. I mean really we should be buying a house right now (according to the married people rule book), but seeing that I had to get all crazy and go off to California for grad school I threw a wrench in the timeline. So I dunno, is it house, dog, then baby? Or baby, dog, then house? Or maybe live in your parents basement, go gay club hopping, and star in a reality television show? Damnit I never remember the order.
and
6. I really want to be a mom.
In all seriousness, I do. Like a lot. Like every ounce of me wants to raise a family. To be a mom, a really really good mom. And watch my husband become a father, a really kind and sweet father.
But I know logistically right now is not the right time. I don’t have a job lined up for next year, don’t know where we’ll be living, and I haven’t fully figured out my medical issues .
I know there is no perfect timing (my perfectionism gene is still struggling to understand this one) and there are a lot ends to be tied up in my life right now. Adding a child to the mix of stressful life decisions isn’t the best idea, for me or anyone else. So while evolution has pre-programmed my body to want kids ASAP, my 21st century mindset is telling me that I need some more time. Now it’s just up to me to have a little patience with it all.
Are you feeling the push to have children? Or if you have children, how did you know it was the “right” time?