These are of course very numerous in number and I shall be selective in my writings about what questions I want answers for.

Things like – I see a pregnant woman and I think immediately “I know what she did.”  My brain’s maturity astounds me sometimes. Followed promptly by “I wonder if the sex was good?” That’s not my question by the way (it’s such an open ended subjective one) but rather my question is Who thinks these things when they see a pregnant woman? And Does this mean I really have no maternal instinct whatsoever? Surely if I had or held a deep seated need to produce an offspring I’d be thinking such things as Oooh when is she due? and I wonder if she knows what the sex of the baby is? and Is she looking after herself properly in order to enable the maximum success of a healthy and happy birth? These are the thoughts I envision normal 37 year old females having, especially ones that nurture a maternal instinct.

Don’t get me wrong I often think having a kid would be a momentously moving and amazingly wonderful experience and this is something people should want in general in order to avoid that whole going extinct phenomenon. And I have been described as being an optimistic personality type when it comes to life’s challenges and new experiences – however this does not stop my brain from quietly freaking out over all the possibilities that can go very, VERY wrong whenever I entertain the notion of reproducing. I have a friend in her 50’s with three grown sons (grown as in these guys are physically and chronologically legal adults now and should be doing life on their own) who does occasionally mention how she envies my life – due to my state of childlessness. And then I think of all the times I have seen friends of my family, friends of my own – as parents go through HELL ON EARTH because of their children – whether it be accidental, intentional or just inadvertent there are people I know who have been brought to their knees by the actions of their children or through simple twists of fate that had their child in the wrong place at the wrong time or simply a mutated gene that afflicts them with serious illness. I KNOW I’ve made my parents’ cry. Or at the very least my mother. Why would I voluntarily sign myself up for all that possible pain and angst? Which leads me to my next question – clearly many, ostensibly normal, human beings do so and happily why the hell am I thinking this way? Perhaps my wiring has been done by a hippy electrician who partakes of the medicinal cannabis on a regular basis.

Then there was this article about living safely in the World of Like. Perhaps this is my problem. Is my more natural world (that of one where as a female who has functioning reproductive organs feels a need to have offspring of her own which may or may not entail – but is more than likely to – gigantic moments of pain and angst) being replaced by a more techno laden world where I am surrounded by only those things and experiences I like? I don’t know, surely if I had a never ending need to be liked surely having a kid would be appealing because generally – at least until they hit teenage years – a kid you’ve produced likes you a lot. I mean after all you are their entire world for a while there.  But now I’ve digressed to the world of speculation. All I can say with certainty is that there are some risks I am okay with and other risks that freak me the hell out. Being a parent is one of them. Is anyone ever ready when they become one? It’s a little different than committing yourself to someone in a romantic, lifelong partnership experience and hoping they will never break your heart. You are both adults and if it goes to shit, well sure it sucks big time but you both lived just fine without each other before. You commit to being a parent and that NEVER ends, that feeling of being responsible for another person’s life. That person who you may have helped grow and shape but who may turn out to be just a rotten human being. Or who may turn out to be unlucky in a self destructive gene kind of way. Or who may step out onto the road on the wrong time in the wrong place one day. Clearly all those moments parents get to have with their kids that are NOT them fucking up, being mean, getting sick, getting hurt totally outweigh the risks or else the species just wouldn’t survive.

I think, in the end, the phrase “You have to be a parent to understand” is probably the most accurate summation of why people go through the whole freaking out process of becoming parents. I will probably never understand. But I think I’m heading to a place where I’m okay with that.