The Burning Question

People around me are broody. No, not that person (at least, I don’t think so) but other people. Am I broody? Well…

It is difficult. I remember the first time I ever desperately wanted children. I was about fourteen and it was a real physical desire. It was so strong. I can’t describe it. It was… no, I can’t describe it. If even five per cent of girls that age feel like that no wonder there are (there seem to be) so many teenage mums. I was lucky. I was really lucky because a) no boys would have touched me with a barge pole for various boring reasons and b) there was only one person I wanted to father my children and he was kind of unavailable. *

It sort of wore off. I certainly still kept the idea of children in mind. I thought about having them often, probably more often than I remember now. And then I got pregnant. Even before I knew I was I imposed this weird ‘I must drink at least 3 units of alcohol a day’ plan on myself. So it was never going to work out. But more than that, I really didn’t want it to. I was freaked out by something inside me making me sick (Christ, I was sick – but then I was trying to drink 3 units a day…) that I had no idea where it had come from (okay, who) and was wriggling around and euch, gross. It was a strange time.

But afterwards, after it’d gone I felt so bad. I thought at the time I felt bad because I’d cheated someone out of a chance at life, but I’m not sure that was the cause of my feelings. I’d managed to get myself entangled in a horrible relationship, I was miles from home, I’d lost all my friends, I had no job, I’d left my degree in the middle of my dissertation – there were a lot of things to make me feel terrible, but it was easier to pin it on someone who never existed. And yes, I suppose I felt guilty because I felt so relieved. 

I know that I want to bring up children, but. I also know I can do anything I like with my life now. I want to write, and travel (I still have my mad living in New York fantasy from time to time) and drink and go out and read and lie in the bath for four hours and not tidy up for days and earn enough money for a night out once a week but not much more because those jobs are easy and fun and I want to be able to go round to my friends if they’re upset or if I’m upset and basically I want to be doing this until I’m in my 50s.

And I suppose I am scared of natural childbirth, the way I’m scared of a lot of daft things. I always said I was way too cool to touch drugs, but really I am just convinced that I am so damn special I will be one of the unlucky people who wind up with their corpse on a government poster campaign. For the same reason I have never, and will never use a tampon. Because I’ll get TSS and die, obviously. And I’m scared that although my partnership works really well because we share the same weaknesses as well as the same strengths and can recognize a bad patch and be supportive, if we created a person together that person might not have the healthiest and happiest life. Better by far to adopt and know what you’re getting yourself into!

I guess I am thinking about this a lot lately because I am getting hitched, and because there is a little baby in the family I’m joining. I know there is plenty of time. I guess I used to hear my clock ticking and now it seems to have stopped. Most people would rejoice at that.

So, all things considered I suppose I am saying I would like to adopt children when I am in my 50s. My man will be in his 60s. Do they let you do things like that?

 

* John Lennon. Kind of unavailable.