I recently went to the gyno to get my handy-dandy IUD placed.
When she told me, ‘This will be good for five years,’ I quickly did the calculation in my head and said, ‘Hmmm, lasts until I’m 31–perfect! Won’t be having kids anytime before then.’
With pregnancies after the age of 35 already considered high-risk, some would consider my long term birth control option to be cutting way too much into my childbearing years. (even though it can be removed at any time)
But I’m in no rush.
The media spotlight has been hovering over working moms, chronicling their woes and struggle to balance it all. I boo-hooed listening to Kara on Being Mary Jane crying about how she was such a bad mother because she was naturally more career-oriented.
The New York Times recently put out a duh article describing how the responsibility of parenthood often falls on women versus their male partners.
Honestly, I can’t even begin the motherhood discussion, until I figure out how the hell to take care of my damn self.
As a woman working as a writer in New York City, I already have no sense of balance:
a.) I have been trying to free myself from the clutches of take out orders, but can’t seem to find the energy to cook.
b.) I have to set meeting alerts to remember date night with bae.
c.) I’m constantly caught in the battle between getting more sleep and showering before work (sorry colleagues).
To sum it up, the idea of taking care of my needs AND the needs of a child scares the sh*t out of me. I’m supposed to rush home from work and immediately cater to the needs of my adorable, hungry, loving, screaming children?
As much as I love my career, I see why ‘daddy gets the bacon, mommy stays at home’ patriarchy stuck with us for so long.
Maintaining a home, satisfying a husband, and making sure your children are well cared for physically and also emotionally is not for the faint of heart.
And that’s why I look at all these working moms like the badass warriors they are.
But I’m not convinced it’s for me.
I romanticize a married life, where my only worries, outside of work, is which foreign country I want to make love to my husband in next.
I know some would consider that a selfish fairytale.
One of my best friends recently gave me the ONLY good argument I’ve heard in the childbearing debate which is, ‘Good people, need to raise more good people in this world.’
While I know ‘leaving behind a legacy’ and ‘be fruitful and multiply’ are biblical and human nature adages, there is a place within me that is deeply opposed to the whole burden of children, despite the joy.
I pray one day, I can put on my supermom cape with no hesitation. But as of now, it is the most terrifying thing I could do.
Are any of you beauties as scared as I am? Have you opted out all together?