To Kid or Not to Kid? That is the Question.

I’m sitting at my desk. Mid-thirties, strawberry hair, freckles, some wrinkles coming in on my forehead and around my eyes. Still somewhat pretty, most days. At least I still get some gentlemen smiling and head nodding at me on the street. Some days I wonder if it’s because I’ve got toilet paper stuck to my shoe or leftover food on my face. Just delightful. Today’s objective- to get through it and try to focus God dammit.

Yesterday in session an incredibly energetic client in her late 30s who is also simultaneously having a small nervous breakdown asked me the dreaded question.

“When are you going to have kids already?” which she followed by “please don’t anytime soon, I can’t do this shit without you.”

“Honestly, I don’t know the plan. I might be a DINK (double income, no kids) forever”. And then, it just came pouring out like verbal diarrhea, “plus I really don’t like kids”. “Shit”, I thought. This woman has only shown me about 13 pictures of each of her kids while I sat there cooing and doing my best to be polite. To be fair, I do think her kids are cute so it wasn't hard but that is a truly rare experience.

“What about your husband?” she asked, raising her eyebrow and tilting her head down with her eyes glaring into mine.

“He can’t make his mind up either,” I answered. Hoping to change the subject. I’d rather talk about anything else.I couldn’t blame her for her question. I’m a few months away from 35. What the docs love to call “geriatric” for any of us women who can’t decide what to do with our future, it’s really no big deal.

So, that’s where I’m at. At my desk, trying to focus on case notes and interesting essays about psychology when this looping question enters and swirls in my mind like a cheesy song from the 80s.

I am OBVIOUSLY not one of those women who was “born to be a mother”. Give me a break. I can barely do ‘wife duty’ (whatever that is these days). I listen to my clients and my friends complain about how lazy their husbands are and I can’t help but twiddle my thumbs and think, “Oops- I am their husband” If you catch my drift. I’m certainly no Betty Crocker and I never claimed to be either. My husband cooks and does his own laundry. I say that I clean but the truth is I hire a sweet lady named Leidy to do that for me because I can’t be fucked to push a rag around by the end of the week. What kind of a mother would that make me? I can’t be a lazy wife and mother.

The other side of me flips out as these thoughts that parade around in my mind. The other side thinks, “Oh come on, a child will be so fulfilling and bring a happiness that you could’ve never imagined”. Ya, but what if it doesn’t? I see my friends who are one step away from checking themselves into a facility. And ya, these are the same friends who tell me how wonderful parenting is and how it would be such a shame to forego the experience. My period is ending today. Could this be the month that I finally cave and fornicate without protection? Can you believe that that's where my mind goes after the above thoughts? Me neither. What is wrong with me? The worst part is, I have talked to my therapist about these decisions at nauseam and still, no idea what to do. My 10am appointment is here. Must dash.