The day before yesterday I went to see my GP to get a whooping cough vaccination. I’m going to become an aunt for the first time in October, and one of my closest friends is due to have her first baby in 3 weeks’ time. I couldn’t bear to think that I might accidentally pass on an illness like whooping cough to vulnerable little people who don’t have the physical resources to fight it in the same way as adults do. As we usually do these days, my GP and I had the “you’re getting older, you do realise that your fertility is decreasing day by day, don’t you?” conversation. This time, my GP asked me if I’d ever considered freezing my eggs as she has some patients who are currently going through that process.
I hate these conversations. They’re necessary, but they leave me feeling drained and emotional every time. I never thought that I would want to have children in the way that I do now. During my 20s I was content being that person who was too busy building her career to worry about that sort of thing. I had several relationships which didn’t work out, but I wasn’t unduly concerned because there were definite reasons why they weren’t the right men for me.
That biological clock of mine is fierce, it turns out. As I entered my 30s I found myself spontaneously tearing up in public places as I watched parents with their children, especially babies. When it first started happening, I didn’t connect my tears with a desire to have my own children. Eventually I worked it out, all the while kicking myself for my lack of personal insight. By that time, I’d been single for quite some time with no prospects on the horizon. I lessened the ache by imposing myself on my friends with children, trying to get my fix of little arms around my neck and story reading and arguing about whether teeth really needed to be cleaned before bed via friends’ kindnesses. My offers to babysit so that parents could have a night out to themselves were partly motivated by a desire to help out my friends, but also pure selfishness on my part.
Gradually I came to terms with my childlessness. Or so I thought. I have many other things in my life that provide me with satisfaction and joy, and overall I was happy. Then I met someone last year, and the angst came rushing back. Unexpectedly, I could envision myself building a family with this person but my ability to have biological children was already so compromised. The women in my family reach menopause early, and I’m already a year older than my mother was when she started “the change”. Let’s face it: my eggs are 37 years old. There’s very little fertility left in them. My rational brain knows that there is a 95% chance that I will never have children, but somehow my heart hasn’t got the same memo.
I’m tired of feeling a pang of envy when yet another of my friends or family announce a pregnancy. I’m tired of having to feel happy when, for a minute or two, my heart wants to cry. It’s only momentary, and I very quickly move on to feeling excitement and pleasure for the couple involved – it’s brand new, precious life, after all. Still, it is hard to think that I am not automatically able to be joyful about it and that I allow my selfishness to get in the way of that. It doesn’t make me a nice person. I tell myself that if I was a better person I would be able to put aside my fleeting envy, but when I’m really honest with myself I’m not sure that’s true. I think it’s probably natural. I hope it is. I don’t let it affect my relationships, and I think my friends probably would understand if I told them this. I hope they would.
I’m not sure this is something that I will ever really get over. How do you reconcile something as primal as a biological clock that’s ticked its way to 5 minutes to midnight with the rational side of your brain that shows you the truth of your life – quality, satisfying, fulfilling? I don’t know the answer to that question. I just hope that my friends and family will continue to indulge me by letting me get my fix and allowing their children to be the children of my heart, if not of my body.
Hi Liv..thanks for these words and thoughts. I especially love the thought of ‘children of my heart’ and the beautiful orchid image. Not the easiest of feelings to have or to write about, all power to you. x
Thanks Terri, your words mean a lot.
This post touched me…I feel similarly. Thanks for reminding me that I’m not alone in those feelings.
You’re welcome – I think there are probably a lot of us out there x
Envy doesn’t make you a bad person. You’re wonderful! A friend who offers to spend time with kids? That’s a very special quality and you are treasured for it. In fact, I’d say your childlessness is a blessing in that you are able to appreciate and be fully present with the children in your life. Parents can get so frazzled and busy that we miss out on reading stories and snuggling. I hope you find a way to feel good about your decision and enjoy all the wonderfulness that you’ve built for yourself. ❤
Thanks Flo. It’s not been a conscious decision on my part, just how things have turned out so far – but I’m lucky I have such kind and patient friends! 😉
you are lovely in your honesty and vulnerability.
and “children of my heart”…such a beautiful perspective.
wishing you peace…
Ah Michelle, you’re so sweet.