Apparently I have no soul. That’s what one ridiculous woman said when she realized I was in my late thirties and had no children, “gasp”, by choice. Motherhood is a hot topic in the thirty-something circle of women on our planet. It is a topic that I am more than happy to avoid; yet I will openly engage in conversation about it if asked. And at thirty-seven years old, I am asked. A lot.
I am an anomaly in my family. I am over thirty, childless, I can’t cook, and am a horrible Catholic. It’s amazing they haven’t revoked my Italian card yet. I am everything a good Italian woman is not. I suppose my loud mouth coupled with my propensity for cursing and vulgarity has allowed me to keep my Italian card thus far. Plus I love me some garlic.
Babies. I’ve never had the overwhelming desire to create life. If you think about it, there is really nothing more narcissistic than creating a little “you”. I’ve said many times that my clock never got plugged in. Hell, I might have been born without one altogether. When I was approaching thirty-three Keane and I discussed having a child. Just one. We thought about the fun things; what it will look like, how amazing it would be to have a child with all our best qualities (our kid would have great hair and amazing cheekbones), and how intelligent it would be. But the more we thought about it, we realized that we would have to give up everything from our money to our freedom, and in my case, my body for at least nine months just so it can turn around and tell us how much it hates us because we won’t let it do something stupid like go on vacation with friends when they are only fifteen. Yes, all that love and sacrifice so my teenager can tell me to “Go fuck myself”. And then I’d have to give up my remaining earthly freedoms because I would beat said teenager to a bloody pulp. Yeah, so no motherhood for me.
Please don’t get me wrong. I adore children. Both my siblings have children and almost all of my friends do as well and I love being around them and engaging them. Yet I am pretty sure I cannot be trusted to create and shape a life without royally fucking it up beyond any and all recognition. I am a much better and happier dog owner. I am, and always have been too selfish to give as much of myself that is needed to be a good parent. Key word being GOOD. Any douche bag can pop out a kid. That’s not the point. I think being a parent is the hardest, most important job anyone, man or woman, can do. And frankly it’s too much pressure for me. No thanks I will stick with dogs.
After the stroke I was on a daily regimen of Coumadin, which is a blood thinner. I had to go to the Coumadin outpatient clinic daily to have my blood INR levels checked. On one of my first visits to the Coumadin clinic the pharmacist asked us if we had any children. I told him no. He gave me this concerned look. “Are you planning on having any?” I simply replied “Nope. Not in our plans.” He then proceeded to tell me, after he released a sigh of relief that could have been deemed as offensive, that if the thrombosis in my brain had occurred during pregnancy I would most certainly be dead. Better yet, since this happened to me once I had a 300% likelier chance that it would occur again during pregnancy. During pregnancy most thrombosis (blood clots) occurrences usually happen in the third trimester. And get this shit, the survival rate for the mother is around 1%. Fetal survival rate, 98%. Basically because the mother is compromised by hosting the fetus and the fetus is far enough along to be born healthy and vibrant, even if a few weeks early. How fucked up is that? So basically I was advised that getting pregnant would most likely be a suicide mission, leaving my husband to raise an otherwise healthy yet motherless child on his own. Keane was not down for that.
We were told a whole host of other things I needed to avoid on blood thinners. For days we were mindful of everything I needed to do to keep my INR levels stable, until we got into the routine. Then, out of nowhere, it hit me. I can’t have children. It was no longer my choice because someone had taken it away from me. And I was pissed.
I would be lying if I said that I went into some sort of mourning period. I didn’t. Bottom line was I was just angry. No matter I had decided years before I wasn’t doing it anyhow. It was the principal. As Keane so accurately stated to me when we talked about it, “You just hate people telling you what you can and can’t do”. That really is the truth. I hate that. But honestly who likes it? Being told what to do is a drag. Unless you are a complete moron, then I am sure some direction is warranted.
I know that my decision to not have children was a good one. It probably helped keep me alive this long. Do I ever wonder what my life would be like had I made a different decision? Sure. Then I go to bed and realize I get to sleep through the night.
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