Fertile is Futile

Women have babies for different reasons such as religious, bring a marriage closer, tear a marriage apart, mistake, accident, love, hate, naïve, curiousity, age, blackmale and/or money.

I'm racing against time. I can’t see myself at fifty with the susceptibility of breaking my hip, because I might slip a disc while chasing my rugrat around with a broomstick. I would label my situation as “now or never” or “do or die.”

Note to self: stretch marks, saggy breasts, crying baby, husband nagging, head aching; definite baby repercussions.

Having to commit to the safety of a child for the rest of my life? Sounds like a lifetime prison sentence with no chance for parole. Do I have the guts?

On the other hand, I don’t want to be the well traveled couple that’s been everywhere, done everything and have made peace with the demons inside just to come out of the rat race with an empty shopping cart. I think I want all the mayhem, madness to go hand in hand with this demon/angel creation of a child. Nothing is a guarantee in life, but I can guarantee that kids will offer a lifetime of love that will cease my selfish existence as the nucleus.

Lesson #24A: Grasshopper must learn to eat glass before he can swallow kindness.