I knew I did not want this motherhood thing, an idea I had, without much thought, signed off on early on as being something I should want. If fate knocked me up, I'd be okay. But if it didn't, that was pretty great also. Maybe greater.
I somehow missed the gene that makes people think babies are cute. I hate to say it, but yes -- probably even your baby. And yet, when I reached my late 20s, I realized I needed a baby and started panicking about completing the requisite steps to get there ASAP.
I fell in love with a boy. And the boy asked me to marry him. And, you guessed it: That boy? He wants kids. To make matters worse, he's the type of guy that you just know will be an amazing father. Well, this really left only one thing for us to do: a test run.
Let's talk for a minute about parenthood. Or, more accurately, non-parenthood. I'm talking here about a woman's right to choose. Not her right to choose to stay pregnant, but her right to choose to never get pregnant at all.
A generation ago, women who did not marry and/or have children by age 40 grieved and moved on. But today, with the advancement of assisted reproductive technology, women are no longer given permission to move on.
Not long after I got married, I started getting asked The Question. Those of you who have encountered this question in its many forms know that one element is always the same, no matter how it's posed. We are always asked "when," not "if."