Its 2017, 20 years since I’ve… graduated from high school and begun my adventures with children.
Twenty years ago seems like yesterday, in my mind at least, but doesn’t look that way when the kids I taught then have graduated from college and are sending their children to my schools. Their children?!
In 1997 I thought I’d definitely have children by now. After all, I love children. I’ve only ever wanted to make a a life and a career with them, from paediatrics to education to my own offspring. Children have been the basis for my employment forever; from summer camp, to America Reads, to Hillel, to extras, to Fundaciones, and plenty other projects and commitments.
So let’s reiterate that again. I have no children yet and I’m 36 years old. Around 10 years ago the gynaecologist reminded me of my ‘child-bearing age’ now Dr. Wynter doesn’t have any conversation with me about children, instead he reviews my mammogram report and tells me he will call me with the pap smear results as he usually does. But somehow everyone else seems to have the conversation with me about children.
I hear all the time;
“Whappen, you don’t want children?”
“How come you don’t have any little ones that belong to you?”
Or my favourites that come from the parents, “How many do you have of your own Tía Rachael?” and “When you have your own, let’s see if your philosophies change.”
Newsflash. Of course I want children (or at least one child that biologically comes from me). Is it something I just envision and it manifests? Not quite. I think its safe to say it takes two to tango; hhmmm well not really if I’m merely buying sperm. My mother thinks I could and should adopt and my father has absolutely nothing to say, other than “it was this ones birthday yesterday” as he recalls the birthdays of all his friends’ grandchildren. He, by the way, is 70 and has no grandchildren.
If you’re wondering if I’m fed up about the many questions directed at me about having children, I’m not. Instead I’m trying to find the perfect response that will encompass positivity, humour and downright reality. That’s been the challenge thus far.
I must declare that a few months ago I was definitely plotting and scheming how I can and would make this a reality. Regrettably that hasn’t worked as it did it my head. But when you live by yourself you really have plenty of time to think and when you have slightly older girlfriends who are going through menopause, your theory on having children at this stage also changes.
Maybe buying sperm, or entering into a contract with a man to impregnate me and to possibly share his life coparenting isn’t necessarily a good idea. Maybe just maybe, it’s a little late or a little too soon to make desperate life changing decisions. How important is this anyway?
Perhaps my fate doesn’t include biological children right now.
What is so wrong with being able to do what I want, when I want, where I want and with whom I want. Kinda sounds more appealing. Breastfeeding wouldn’t be my thing either. Whatever my fate is, it’s taken 20 years to accept that it is what it is and will be, whenever it’s supposed to be.
Let me digest that again…
Biological children or not, I’m still surrounded by them in my neighborhood, in my schools and with my friends. They’ve all been a part of my journey and I have a pretty good feeling that they will be with me, for a while longer.
Anyway… Here’s to twenty years down and at least another 20 (plus) years to go of other people’s children and possibly, eventually, let’s see how that works out, my own… Oh jeez, but now my mind shifts to the thought of me with a 10 year old going through menopause… Yikes. Let me just pause the pregnancy talks altogether.