Monday, Sept. 09, 2013 @ 10:40 am
We talked about a plan last night in which Daniel begins his Masters next September. After completing two years of this program, we would start to try for a family. I would become pregnant in the autumn of 2016, at age 35, and the baby would arrive coincidental with Daniel's graduation from his Masters. We would begin trying for a second child as soon as possible. That part is a bit crazy - I know that - and I have no delusions about how exhausting this would be.
This give us the better part of 4 years to relax and enjoy our lives as they are at the moment. It gives me time to mentally prepare for motherhood, and it gives Daniel time to achieve his career goals. It give us time to be able to afford a second bedroom. This gives me peace of mind that we have made a decision and that we have something to work towards and that I can shut off the part of my mind that obsesses over whether or not I actually want to have a family.
It gives us time to get married.
It puts me at an older age for starting a family, and I recognize that there are dangers associated with this. I know my body well, and I know from previous events that we, as a couple, are fertile. I am very healthy and feel as though my body is young for its age. This may be a naive assumption, as blood pressure and folicle development are not one and the same, but I have to take these mental shortcuts now, to make these somewhat irrational judgements to help justify my perpetually late-blooming life.
There is the possiblity of moving the process up by a year. I could be pregnant through Daniel's second year, and then I would be at home on maternity leave through his third year. He wouldn't be in the best mental state through this time, due to lost sleep and my probable hormonal swings, but it seems doable; however, I'd rather he be able to focus on and enjoy his time at SFU.
I've spent a lot of time considering my reasons for wanting or not wanting a family. I have so many fears of not liking this little person, of strongly not wanting to raise a boy, of the exhaustion of being 'on' for 24 hrs per day for 5+ years. Knowing that I am not good with children at all. But in the end, I have to ask myself, Are you so different from everyone else? Am I some evolutionary mutant that has no innate desire to reproduce, so much brain that logic has pushed out instinct? It's one of those things - yes, the water is cold, but you never regret having dived in.
I loved Alf intensely. More than any other living being. And he was a cat. I cannot explain my affection for that animal - I would think about him constantly. I remember one day, he came jogging towards me across the parking lot when I returned from work. I called out his name, and he came out of the shrubbery and trotted towards me, his beard all swaying back and forth, his tail staight up. My God, my heart exploding with love. That cat, his face, his coming towards me. Is that what loving a child is like?