There are so many things I want to do with my life.
So many aspirations I have. There is so little time when you begin to factor in the reality of starting a family.
Time is one of the obvious stumbling blocks I come across when considering having a family and in essence how I want to spend my life.
In my mind, (admittedly perhaps warped through my own experiences) nothing else limits a woman so significantly as becoming a mother. Before any readers get stroppy or think that I am expressing a negative view of having children please understand that this is a personal pondering and not meant in any way to be offensive to anyone.
So I think " I'm 28 now, if I was to have a child in the next two years ( there's every chance I wont ) when that child is 16 I'll be 44-46 years old. When that child grows to be 30, I'll be 58-60.
Doesn't seem so bad timing wise but what about devoting your life to your children, surely that's the sort of mum I would want to be? What about the things I want to have time and energy to do?
I'm probably thinking about this the wrong way.
So how am I thinking about it exactly?
Is my desire to have children contrived from the hope that somehow doing so will give me a sense of meaning in life?
Through the miracle of childbirth, motherhood,parenthood and everything in between, do I expect some form of simularly miraculous self worth to materialise?
Surely to apply that kind of pressure to myself and my unborn child is an incredibly unfair approach to bringing a new life into the world?
And what kind of world would I be bringing my child into?
If I am confounded by the choices in front of me, frustrated by my own limitations and infuriated by those atrocities of life which I cannot control, who is to say my offspring would fair any better? Why would I want to take the responsibility of pushing another person into existence?
If I allowed myself/was able to fall pregnant right now, I suspect in all honesty, that I would be "copping out" of an existence, an identity all of my own. I would be "passing the buck" of chance, the terrible weight of fate on to my child, in a selfish attempt to avoid figuring out things for myself.
Whilst I know that this feeling will likely change, this is currently no less the case.
If there is no great future, no huge un-tapped well of potential within me; for fear of failure in myself would I then be seen as succeeding in the most natural task of a female?
How confusing to consider that our roles as people of planet earth might ultimately be that of simply species survival.
What if my great gift to humanity is in fact simply procreation?
So what of women and men who do not procreate? It seems preposterous to suggest that these lives have less meaning. (That's because it is) But there remains a practical instinct to put the care of our young as our top priority, along with them goes the carers, the feeders, the nurturers, the mothers, the fathers, the parents.
So even though this instinct is one which has propelled us into the dominating species on this planet, we have now evolved passed a point where there is an actual need to procreate. There is no need for survival and increasing population is now commonly regarded as a burden on the planets resources.
So where does that leave me?