I was thinking the other day about how much easier my life would be if I just gave up on the dream of having a baby.
I
could go to graduate school, or get another bachelor's degree, or
pursue any degree I wanted because it wouldn't matter how long it took
me to finish. I wouldn't be a slave to my biological clock.
And it wouldn't matter how much money it cost, or whether I could
reasonably be guaranteed a job that would pay a decent amount. I would only have myself to provide for.
I could get a job that involved heavy lifting or weird hours. I wouldn't have to think in terms of future pregnancy or parenting.
I could get a one-bedroom or even studio apartment and I wouldn't even need a yard. I would only need room for me.
I could move to any city, state, or country I wanted. I wouldn't need to stay near my family for support.
I
could use any money I saved for things like traveling, or buying land
and getting some horses like I still occasionally dream of. I
wouldn't need the money for doctor visits, medication, or treatments. I
wouldn't need the money for daycare or a nanny or any other large
expenses that come with children.
I could make travel plans for years in the future. I wouldn't need to plan around potential TTC, pregnancy, or baby.
I could stop worrying about whether I ovulate, or if I'm fertile at all.
Yet,
despite all these possibilities, I cannot fathom giving up - especially
before I've even tried. It's the dream I've had for longer than I can
remember and it shapes so much of who I see myself as being.
It
fills my daydreams and my thoughts and my imagination. It motivates me
to keep working towards the goals I need to accomplish before I can
finally turn all my energy to this dream.
And
though any of the possibilities I mentioned might make my life easier
in the short-term, all of them combined couldn't fill the void that
would be left if I tucked my dreams of baby away with the other dreams
that will never be fulfilled.
