it’s a scary thought to look at my life and see, really understand, that I am ready and able to have a kid. it seems that through the years those horrific thoughts and nightmares of how my life would change and the things I would have to give up don’t really seem that major at all. slowly I begin to understand that those sacrifices are probably something I have been becoming ready for. I suppose they are a natural part of life.

at the same time I have slowly begun to understand my age. I am turning 33 this february. I am not young anymore. I like where I am in my life, but I don’t like the stillness of it all at this moment. I do and I don’t. I like not being crazy busy, but busy is what moves me. so how do I move without it? sitting in a classroom full of twenty somethings, it suddenly dawns on me that I am not that young anymore. sure, I can hang, but who am I kidding, I am thirty-something. I always took ride in the fact that I feel like I took everything out of my youth, but with age slowly dawns the inevitable realization that there’s so much more I could have done. some part of my life is in the past and has died, or is always dying. it’s an inevitable dawning of age that brings this sense of loss. actually, I did an amazing job, really. but still, there’s always more. I’m a bit greedy.

I am not having any kids. just because I can, doesn’t mean that I will. not yet. it’s just that I understand now what it takes and it looks like the most natural thing to do at this age. everyone I know is doing it. even those whom I thought wouldn’t.