I know that childbirth, pregnancy, motherhood and all things FEMALE ISSUES related are topics that are traditionally taboo, but that is totally patriarchal doctrine fear-speak, so I'm going to ignore that bullshit and dive head first. I will back pedal this once though and say that it has taken me up until very recently to be able to share my thoughts in this area with perfect strangers. This is for a few reasons:
1) I have a mental reflex that tells me I should never, ever discuss my woman problems with anyone outside of my mother and my lady doctor. I have no idea where this reflex came from since my mom did not bring me up to not share shit. My girlfriends usually have to pinky-swear that they REALLY want to hear this stuff and that I am not giving them TMI.
2) I've been working with kids since I was a kid. Pissing Parents Off is like shooting fish in a barrel. Certain Parents get their knickers in a wad over the most mundane shit that has nothing to do with them and their kid, but because there is SOMEONE out there in this vast, vast world that DARES to disagree with what they believe is the gospel truth about procreation and child-rearing, they must reach way deep down and bring out the Rampant Asshole Within.
I have been face-to-face with the RAW many-a time, but have yet to feel the flaming wrath of the parental internet troll because I am smart enough to never bitch about anything childcare related in a public form.
WITH THAT SAID - if anything I say in the following post (and subsequent posts) offends you and makes you want to send me a comment detailing why I am wrong and will be promptly sent to hell for whatever beliefs I practice in my own personal life, I want you to keep in mind that you have better things to do then read the inane babbling of some stranger on the interwebs. Who will not be persuaded one way or the other by the frothy rants of another stranger on the interwebs. We savvy?
Here we go.
I've been debating permanent sterilization for years now, but only since Boyfriend has come into my life have I been actively pursuing my options. People without cardiac issues have been timid to ask me about the whole having babies thing, and this is what I tell them in a nutshell:
I was fortunate enough to have been advised from an extraordinarily early age in my life that adoption was the best option for me. There may be a chance for me to give birth, but that chance was always accompanied by a frown on my cardiologists' face. No one wanted to say, "YES, GO FORTH IN PROCREATION!" and no one wanted to be the negative Nancy and say, "GOD NO. CLOSE SHOP BEFORE THE FACTORY EXPLODES!"
Throughout the years, being keenly aware of my own body's limitations, witnessing the struggles of parenthood from a caregivers POV, and learning about the role genetics play on ones health, I decided that it would be in my best interest to never risk giving birth. It would be completely irresponsible on my part to gamble with my life and the life of another just for the sake of what? Passing on my oh so wonderful genes? Hell no. While I have a deep maternal instinct (shut up, fuckers, I do) it is not strictly reserved for my own kin. I know in my heart of hearts I could love any kid, any age, any race if given the opportunity. I did not have that overwhelming desire in the depths of my heart and soul to have my own child. Some folks do and cannot imagine (or are incapable of) loving any offspring other than their own. It's OK. Hundreds of thousands of years worth of biological instinct can be tough to shake up.
Did this decision come easily to me? I had some trouble wrapping my brain around it when I was a teenager. I thought I knew everything and I had very romantic, and frankly, fantastical, ideas about childbirth. Once I grew up and started a career in childcare, though, yes, the decision came very easily and with a finality that you would never guess such an indecisive person like me could accomplish.
Does my biological clock tick? All. The. Fucking. Time. It doesn't just tick, either. It blares in my head like a foghorn calling to mist-covered ships in search for the safe and familiar. I look at pictures of friends babies and my uterus feels like it just got sucker punched. Some primordial mental voice yells at me, "YOU NEED ONE OF THOSE! GET ONE! WE WANTS THE PRECIOUSSSSS!"
Then I have to beat it back with a stick I've named REALITY CHECK and reason with the voice.
"Oh, yes. Let's have a baby. Where shall it sleep? My shoe rack or just stick it in the cubby on the cat tree?"
That usually quells those biological urges to find the Ideal Mate and procreate and do all of the stuff anthropology class taught me in community college. Quells until I see the latest set of pictures from my boyfriends friends - who had triplets last year.
So a decision had been made and it was time to shop around for my options on the best way to close down the factory before any accidents happened. I'll get to that in another post, though. Stay Tuned.