Obligatory intro: I’m a big believer in being open and honest about body parts. Reproductive organs should be no less mysterious than arms, eyes and knees. That’s why I’ve got no problem talking plainly about the topic here. At the same time I know many people don’t share my philosophy and would just as soon not read about such things. It is purely out of courtesy for those folks that I’ve more-tagged this.
We Cobles have a rule. We don’t make permanent solutions to temporary problems. That’s why we didn’t sell our house when we were out of work for awhile. It’s why we didn’t put our dog to sleep the first time he started limping and it’s why I’ve refused flat-out to have the hysterectomy that the doctors say will make my life easier on one level.
Ten years ago we wanted nothing more than to have children. We bought a big house with lots of bedrooms, a large yard and a church nearby. We picked out names and told ourselves stories around the fire about how nice it would be to have our little nerdlets open their Christmas presents in front of the fireplace. We’d already been trying for years, and then more years of trying went by. We started to see our friends’ babies turn into kids who need braces and speech therapists and juvenile justice attorneys. I read mommyblogs which seemed designed to be nothing more than places for mothers to talk about the myriad ways their children ruin their lives and cramp their style.
Based on all of that–and more–we decided we were okay with not having kids. Then a few years after that we moved over to being vocally Childfree. Well, I say “vocally” but for the most part we’ve kept the whole Childfree thing quiet. It’s kind of like atheism in that it’s one of those things that you are kind of proud of but realise that it is still socially unacceptable so you don’t talk about it all the time.
Even in our childfree state I’ve never ever contemplated the hysterectomy. There are a ton of other reasons to keep your own parts besides having a baby. Your own hormones are safer than hormone replacement therapy. There are psychological issues for every woman tied in with her reproductive organs. I figure nature has it’s own timeclock for my ovaries and uterus and there’s no purpose served in jumping the gun and taking them out early.
But then things are starting to change again. Friday I went to lunch with a friend and her son–who is also a friend of mine. He’s the coolest kid ever and I wish I had a kid like that. Saturday Hubby and I talked about seeing other friends happy with their kids in those family moments. Yesterday as we sang happy birthday to our dog I realised that maybe I’m not quite done with thinking I could be a mother someday. I realise that it took me 10 years to change my mind from trying-to-get-pregnant to childfree. I’ve technically got a few years left in which I could change it back. And since I’ve kept those parts I’ve kept those options open.