Why I don’t want children and other false confessions

Awww look at the baby! (not mine, promise!)

Not now but maybe one day if by accident. I’ve got too much to do first to saddle myself with a few missteps children.  Sure these eggs are getting older and fewer and far between but as I sit down to visualize my life with one, or two, or gawd forbid four beautiful young things, an unsettled, unfinished feeling weighs down on my chest and normal breathing becomes a struggle. Realization: In order to have offspring and let them live their lives, I have to live mine first and I’m certainly not done with it yet.

Plus I love the idea of adoption. Adopting 5, 6 and 7 year olds and bypassing those diaper-ridden, work filled early years.  You can adopt at any time too and it still equals all of the joy, none of the ripped uterus/cracked pelvis reality. A win followed by another win followed by raising kids for the rest of their (your) life.

Hold on

Yes, it might be that my guy fella wants babies and if that were the case then I would absolutely consider it should his desire be so great. To unilaterally decide not to have kids is both selfish and unrealistic.  I would feel the same meeting a guy fella who says ‘10 kids or nothing’ to ‘No kids but travelling’. These are decisions you make together and definitely not alone.

You owe me

Plus I would feel a little indebted to him as the preacher announces Mr John  Smith and Mrs First Name first and keeping my Last Name na na na na boo boo to you.

You see, I’ve had this name for 20+ years and I’ve only had him for quite a few less so unless his last name is Rockerfeller or Rocafella, I’m keeping mine until the end of time. Now, if he persists I take his last name then I’ll insist he take my first, or even my middle one in exchange. As is my nature, I’d at least give him some options.

To be real though, if my guy’s telling me what to do, then he’ll soon be somebody else’s guy. I love and welcome suggestions but I detest and reject orders. If you want to order me around, I had better be wearing an apron and yielding a pad of paper and a pen and calling you ‘sir.  And should it come to that, I implore you to please take a quick glance out your window in search of the flying swine I guarantee to be present.

But in the meantime, me popping out babies?

.

.

Not on my watch.

–photo source

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