Girl Talk: My Biological Clock Is Broken
I’m smack in the middle of my 30s and recently married. For some childless women my age, this is tick-tick-tick time. However, while other women may be intimately in touch with their ovulation cycles, I’m in no hurry to have kids now, if ever. My old man and I have talked about it, but we’re both horrified by how much our lives would have to change — not to mention how big a pain in the ass kids are for, oh, say, 18 years. We have two starter kids: dogs. Sometimes, they drive us bonkers. They give us joy and a lot of laughs, but when we travel, as we often do, they complicate our plans. Actual children, what with their need for food more than every 10 hours (or whatever it is that you’re supposed to do with little humanoids), and their ability to talk, scream, and cry, would be far more painful at travel time. Or, say, at 4 a.m. time, and all those other ungodly hours they pick to start needing things.
Then there’s the whole nine months business. The older I get, the more I’m grossed out by pregnancy. If I’d found myself madly in love and in a stable relationship as a younger woman with less experience and a steady income, I probably would have gone for it. But now a lot of the gory details make me shudder.
“But it’s great!” we’re told by new parents. Amazing. “Best thing that ever happened to me,” they say. Sure, they have to say that — to recruit more new parents into the club, so they have someone to talk to about their kids. I’m sure it is life-changing, heart-expanding, and all that good stuff. Maybe I’d want to do it someday.
But it’s like how I feel about running. Runners always foam at the mouth about how great running is, how you get in shape, the bonus of getting a runner’s high. I bet it is invigorating as hell and super-healthy to boot. But I hate running. So you’re not going to see me doing it — unless I’m being chased by a pack of fast, blood-thirsty zombies.
I don’t want to rule anything out absolutely, but if I’m comparing having children to being chased by a pack of zombies, it’s probably not the right time to start planning a little treasure in my belly. And that’s OK by me.