My biological clock is a fierce, unrelenting sound that begins in my ears and penetrates my entire body at least four days a week.
Circa 2005/early 2006, I recall feeling the clock like more of a wave, when I was perfectly settled in my then-relationship, thinking I had my life almost figured out. I'd feel it wash over me and I would be calm, content and even happy. Emotionally ready should there be a birth control error and an embryo should take up space in my uterus. It never did. I was pretty careful with the BC (despite that boyfriend's comic stylings that included I had plans to "trap him").
The feeling of the wave ended when that relationship ended, and I was glad at the time. I couldn't fathom wanting a child when I didn't have a partner to have a child with. I mean, that would be insane, right?
My birthday, 2008: It was like I woke up on that Sunday morning and the wave that I once felt crested and the water hit me forcefully as I sat up in my bed. Alone. It sounds bizarre, but it's, sadly, very, very true.
On Christmas night, 2008, I announced to my mother and stepfather in their living room that maybe, but that time next year, I would have a baby. I got blank stares all around. And understandably so.
The water, at times, suffocates me. I feel the clock ticking and it makes me sad. Makes me antsy. Makes me crazy. Makes me wet. But not in a good way.
(I apologize for the lame ocean analogies, by the way.)
Occasionally, I can go an entire day without the desire of wanting a baby. Those days, especially lately, have become pretty infrequent, though. And I see a cute kid on the street? Forget it. It's back with a vengeance.
The book that I'm currently reading, It Sucked and Then I Cried, should cure me of all of my motherly dreams forever. First she talks about how her pregnancy made her miserable. The morning sickness, the acne, the flatulence... it all sounds severely unpleasant. And, me knowing myself pretty well when I have merely a cold, I could be the worst pregnant person ever. I always half-suspected that perhaps this was the underlying reason that my last relationship ended. You really want kids, and I might even want them, too, but ya know what? you with your period is bad enough... No deal. Heather Armstrong, the author, talks about how breastfeeding can be an awful experience because your boobs get clogged and holy sweet heavens that really fucking hurts. First of all, I didn't really know that your boob could get clogged, but now that I do it certainly sounds like a horrifically painful experience. And then, of course, there's the author's predisposition to depression, which landed her in a mental institution for PPD. Um, hellllloooo? my brain is screaming at me that I could very well be the most unstable glutton for punishment on earth considering my tolerance for pain and history of severe depression. A kid? I have so lost it.
But, ya know what? I really, really, really want. And tomorrow's good for me, how about you? Free for my baby shower?
Of course since I am currently on a depression upswing and my meds are working as they should be, I know that having a baby now, let alone anytime in the near future, would be a terrible idea for both me and the baby. Financially, I struggle to take care of myself. Emotionally, I've been taking care of myself well for only a few short months. And, of course, there's the sex of my significant other that would prohibit me from getting knocked up the old-fashioned way. I'm in a good place, overall, right now and a child would only jeopardize that in every way. Thanks for the reminder, logical side of my brain.
But when I am in a place where I can say, annnnd go!, bring the pain and give me that baby!