Somewhere In The Middle

29 Mar 2018

When's the right time to have a baby?

I am now at an age where if I announced I was pregnant, the overwhelming reaction wouldn’t be holy shit what are you going to do?! 

Cos I’m no longer a 15-year-old chilling in the girls’ toilets at school with my gals (we chill in the living room with a cheeseboard instead – going up in the world ladies).

But I do sometimes think that if I suddenly found out I was pregnant tomorrow – and it would very much be an accident FYI – I would probably react like a terrified 15-year-old hiding in the school toilets. I mean, okay, that’s partly because suddenly finding out I was pregnant would totally ruin my honeymoon plans but also partly because… okay no, I’d be pissed about my plans to return to New York being screwed up okay. That would really fucking annoy me.

And that’s just it. It wouldn’t be part of the plan and I really like a plan. I need the plan because I selfishly don’t want to be responsible for a little human life right now. Not sure baby would be too keen on their parents spontaneously doing a pub crawl in the middle of a Friday afternoon or their mum jetting off to Singapore last minute.

But on the other hand?

OMG SO BROODY. I want my own little family with G. Have you seen how cute babies are? Have you seen how much cuter they get when they giggle? HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR ICKLE TOES?! Impregnate me please and thank you.

Lol and that’s the battle going on between my brain and ovaries. Those guys just argue in the background whilst I go about my day to day life. What a jolly hoot.

This is only exacerbated by society telling us to plough ahead with our careers and have babies in our thirties but also tell us that it becomes harder to have babies in our thirties and that we should CRACK ON.

I cannot be the only one that has noticed this is somewhat contradictory information. Being a woman is swell eh?

I guess what this ramble of a post is trying to explore is that I don’t think I ever quite predicted how the feeling of wanting to have a baby would be such a slow, gradual process. Like this tiny, flickering light that starts out completely insignificant and then gradually gets brighter and brighter until you can’t help but start to pay attention to it.

I’m not sure what I did think would happen. That I’d hit 27 (the age I always said I’d have kids *gulps*) and BAM, throw that contraception out the window matey…?

But I definitely didn’t expect the different pulls in different directions. The feeling of really wanting to have a baby and also desperately not wanting to disrupt the perfect balance of trips abroad, nights in the pub and lazy Sunday afternoons you got going on. Having friends that you talk about going on maternity leave at the same time with and also having friends who look at you in borderline-disgust because you joked that you’re broody.

(I feel this is all perfectly summed up by me watching One Born Every Minute whilst drinking a glass of wine the size of my head.)

People have kids later these days; that’s the direction society has moved in. But nature hasn’t quite caught up. So I imagine that my brain and ovaries are going to keep arguing for a bit longer yet. And I’ll keep hanging out somewhere in the middle for now.

And this blog post is how I chose to start my Easter weekend. S’cuse me, I’m off to devour an easter egg now. Bye.