Kaleidoscope

Source: stitchedincolor.com via Michelle on Pinterest

As I played with Barbies in the floor of my purple childhood bedroom, I knew the names of my children. I knew, and my Barbies knew, and so together, we acted out complicated and dramatic scenes of family and futures that wouldn’t even come close to what my real future would turn out to be.

By the time I was eight-years-old, I had resolved that one day I would have babies. I named these babies Benjamin and Lucy and felt assured that nothing would change my desire for babies or their set-in-stone names.

As time passed, the desire did change. I became more interested in things like horses and travel and writing. I became less interested in my Barbies and any future babies that I might have. My future, once painted in reds and yellows and blues, transformed into vibrant greens and purples, becoming a rich kaleidoscope that no longer resembled anything I had previously imagined for myself.

College rolled around, and my kaleidoscope future at turns both settled and shifted, constantly changing to reflect my current moods and obsessions. When I met Jeremy, I was no longer an eight-year-old with dreams of future children named Benjamin and Lucy; I was a grown woman, and I didn’t know if I even wanted kids.

Jeremy was certain. Positive. He knew more than anything that he wanted a wife, and he wanted a family. Used to, when you asked what he wanted to do with his life, his answer was simple: he wanted to be a dad.

I was uncertain. Questioning. Mind reeling with possibilities and outcomes. When asked what I wanted to do with my life, my answer was complicated, multi-part, and almost never included children.

I worried that this would ultimately be a point of contention. I had seen other couples break up over similar decisions. If this, a most fundamental point of compatibility, was up for debate, then would we ever make it?

Despite my misgivings, Jeremy and I discussed possibilities. Kids, college, career paths. At one point, we even named our possible future children. Beautiful names that still give me goosebumps when I think of how perfect they are. I’ve always been a namer of things. Pets, random wildlife that wander into our sights, stuffed animals, cars. A thing has a name, and it has life, a purpose, a meaning.

Those dream children of ours have a life, a purpose, a meaning, even if they never come to be.

Together, Jeremy and I dreamed and planned, revealing a combined realization for the future that paled in comparison to past versions of the same future. As we built our own family of cats and each other, Jeremy’s desire for children waned. My own desires became less clear. To this day, they are still unclear.

Most of the time, I lean towards the “I don’t want children” camp. Admitting this is hard. I wonder if something is wrong with me, if something inside is broken. I’ve even had friends all but say that something is broken, that something must be missing from me if I don’t want to have kids, that I’m not whole.

And I wonder if that’s true, and honestly, it hurts to wonder that.

Everyone has different wishes and hopes. Everyone has a different kaleidoscope future. Would mine be less vibrant, less bright, less fulfilled if it didn’t include children? Or could I find my own sources for fulfillment and contentment through my husband, through my family, through my beautiful nephew, through my words?

Source: flickr.com via Ruth on Pinterest

Kids are a blessing, no doubt, but they are not the only blessing life has to hand out.

Ultimately, Jeremy and I have to decide what we want. We have to revisit the baby question and think long and hard on what our changing kaleidoscope future has in store. Lucky for us, if we do end up having kids, we already have some stellar names picked out…and if we don’t, well, we’re pretty dang good at naming cats, too. 

Author's Note:  I won't lie. This one was hard to share. Knowing I have supportive readers and friends gave me the courage to hit publish. 


And I'm sharing with the supportive community of yeah write as well. Please take the time to click the button below and discover some truly beautiful blogs. And if you have the opportunity, return on Thursday to vote for five of your favorite posts. 

The Grown-up Birthday

Happy Birthday to me. Yay birthdays. Please read both of these statements with the sarcasm with which they were intended. Trust me when I say, I do. 

One candle too many.

When did I really grow up? When did birthdays become more of a chore and less of a happy day to look forward to? When I was a little girl, heck even when I was a teenager, I can remember looking forward to birthdays with such excitement and enthusiasm that I could barely sleep at night. I would count down the days with anticipation and fervor, gleefully imagining the cake, the presents, the intense joy of the day. 

I'm most definitely not a little girl anymore. Don't let me fool you completely. I still get excited. As I've said before, I'm a pretty excitable kind of person. I get excited about the simple things in life: the food, the deep, engrossing conversations with my hubby, the craziness of the cats, the dry wit and lovable humor of my crazy family. But my birthday? Not so much anymore. 

I'm 28. There, I said it. And no, I'm not going to pretend that I'm as old as the hills when I know good and well that I'm in my twenties and have no right to be complaining about age. But I think I have finally reached that age where age seems a little more important than it used to. The significance of the number is not so important as the number it's bringing me closer to: 30. Thirty's not old either. I realize that. But thirty is officially out of the twenties...and that's a little scary. There are so many things that I want to do by 30, so many things I want to have accomplished. I look at other women the same age as me, and even in some cases younger than me, and I see all that they've accomplished, and I think to myself, what the hell have you done lately?

Sure, I'm pretty successful. If not in career, then in life. I have a wonderful husband who adores me (and whom I adore), a solid roof over my head, and three cats who may or may not want to kill me. Plus, I have the most rocking family that a girl could ever ask for. I pretty much have everything I could possibly want for my birthday...which is maybe why birthdays aren't quite as exciting as they used to be.

So in an effort to up the excitement level a tad, I came up with a birthday wish list of things I'd like for (either on or before) my thirtieth birthday...two years from today:

1) A Career as a Writer. Notice, this one is NUMBER ONE for a reason, and if I got this, I really wouldn't care so much about the rest. When I first graduated college, I tried the whole freelancing thing. Didn't quite work out. Turns out a freelance writer's income (at least when they start out) is pretty sporadic-like. Pretty soon I realized I would either be living with my parents forever or starving to death in some match-box apartment if I didn't come up with a day job. Before my thirtieth birthday, I want writing to BE my day job.

 2) Travel to Ireland Japan Somewhere Anywhere Outside the US.  I don't want to wake up one day and realize that my life has passed me by without fulfilling my dream to travel...at least once...outside the US.

3) To Finish My Novel. I only started this a few months ago, but in two years, if I haven't finished it, I'm going to kick my own ass.

4) Hardwood Floors in Living Room and Hallway. Ah, my shallow, materialistic wish. Jeremy and I aren't like a lot of families nowadays. When we purchased our home, we purchased it with the express intent of living in it until we retire and beyond. This isn't a "starter home" for us (and I'm not saying anything about anyone who buys homes this way...it just isn't for us); it's a forever home. I have roots in this place, and I want to grow old here and make as many improvements along the way as we can.

5) Baby. Baby Not. I want to have the whole Baby Question figured out by thirty. If we don't know by then, we're going to figure it out.

Now don't all y'all rush out and spend all your money getting me these things just yet. Remember we've got a couple of years to go, and as fickle as I am, I'll probably have changed my mind on what I want by then. In the meantime, I'll enjoy this my twenty-eighth birthday, my grown-up birthday of too many candles and never enough cake.

The Baby Question

So, the baby question has been one that has come up frequently lately. My husband and I have been married for over three years now, and I can't help but feel that everyone is expecting us to be expecting. Many of my friends have already had babies and are now working on growing their small families, and yet, here I sit, completely content with spending my days with Jeremy, my fur-babies, and my writing. Is something wrong with me? Is it horrible that I cringe every time the baby question comes up? 

Don't get me wrong. I think we want a family; although neither of us are completely sold on the idea quite yet. We're both a little selfish at this point, and I just don't think we're quite ready. Of course, when I say we're not ready, I get this response: "Well, if you wait until you're ready, you'll never have kids!" Ugh. Look, I get it. I get your point, and I totally know where you're coming from. But, this isn't some blanket answer you can use for everyone in this situation. Every couple in this world is unique, and the time sometimes really isn't quite right. It's not an excuse; it's just a fact. And by the way, I'm only 27 (about to be 28, yeah whatever), so we still have time. Right?!?

I'll be honest. Babies have been on my mind a lot lately. My nephew (my sister's first child) is about to turn two. My cousin's toddler is already almost two and a half. My husband's sister's beautiful baby girl is just a few months old. One of my friends from work just had her second little boy, and one of my other closest and dearest friends just announced that she and her sweet husband are pregnant. And I'm completely overjoyed by all of this baby love. It's a beautiful thing! Especially getting to spend time with my nephew and cousin's toddler. They both have such wonderful and unique little personalities, and it's so fun to watch them grow and become themselves.  I can only imagine how beautiful it would be to watch our own children grow each and every day.

But the baby question still stands and still goes unanswered. For every moment that I feel like, YES, let's have a baby, there's another moment where fear and selfishness take over and leave me feeling unsure and lost. And Jeremy provides no direction as he seems to feel the exact same way. 

Our babysitting stints lately have done nothing to make the answer any clearer for us. So many moments are beautiful: walking in the backyard, my nephew's tiny hand gripping my finger, his sweet voice giggling as we tickle his sides and feet, a goodnight hug and wave as his mama carries him off to bed. And in those moments, the desire for a baby rises up in me so quickly that I can hardly stand it. Then he looks up at me and says, quite bullheadedly, "No! No! No!" And I remember that he's on the verge of the terrible twos and probably has a poopy diaper and likes to watch Barney OVER and OVER and OVER again, and then I'm just not so sure. 

I keep wondering and waiting for that defining moment when I know that I'm meant to be a mother, that we're ready to begin this adventure, but it just never comes. When will it come? And how have other people known that the time was right, that such a life-changing decision was right? I realize these are questions we've all asked ourselves, and I realize that my feelings are probably quite normal. But this is the stuff I think about when babies come up, and in an effort to better understand those thoughts myself, I thought I'd write them here.

Just keep this in mind the next time you ask someone the baby question; remember that the response may not be the easiest one in the world to give.