I don’t want to have a baby. Oh lawds, no. I don’t. I won’t. I can’t. I shan’t.
Absolutely no offense to those out there who have been pregnant, who are pregnant, or who desire to be pregnant. The thought of pregnancy simply terrifies me. I try to imagine what it would be like to be in a family way and I just want to put my head down between my knees and rock back and forth and moan. Ghost nausea, I suppose.
But there are times. Times when I’m feeling fortified, emboldened. Times like tonight, when I feel drunk on the blogs of actual mothers.1 Not because their words paint a pretty pastoral picture of parenthood, no. What they do is expose it in ugly, sharp relief. They talk about those 3 a.m. sessions when you’re slumped on the floor, covered in poop, sobbing right along with your baby. And you know what? It gives me a strange hope. Like maybe I, too, could actually make it through that. Armed with my wit and sarcasm, maybe I could teach someone else something about this world.
Maybe I wouldn’t actually have to sacrifice the whole of myself for the sake of another.
A friend once described babymaking as a science experiment. I liked that, and now I think of it often. A science experiment, indeed. Who would the baby look like? How would it act? What would its personality be like? What exactly would we get if we combined this with that?
If we do, if we do, if we do. If I can make it past my latent terror. I hope the baby would get lots and lots of that.
Alert! Cuteness Forthcoming!
The beau at age 4, exhibiting THAT.
It almost seems like a crime not to pass around the beau’s cuteness genes.
1 I am reading blogs tonight instead of finishing my work work, or tackling my side work, or working on my posts about Colorado. I swear, they’re coming. Like possibly sometime within the next month. Probably within the year. Maybe.
Oh god. Babies make me nervous, sweaty, and generally light-headed. Your reaction is totally my reaction. And yet, at the same time, I will avidly read the more realistic mom blogs and think – oh, wouldn’t it be nice? And then I get back to the rocking and complete fear. So yeah. No babies for me. Even if J or I had been adorable kids.
You are SO LUCKY. Fin and his entire family all had huge, giant, massive, (I cannot emphasise this enough) grossly fat heads when they were babies/toddlers. Like, their heads are the same size as their fat little bodies. Looking at baby pictures of Fin does not make me think “Awww, baybeez!”. It makes me think “Ow”.
Or, “Caesarian Section”.
o_O
Good lord. If I were you — and I am not you, but if I were — I would 100% opt for the Caesarian.
And I am a total no-painkillers, natural birth, hippy granola type.
I am totally pondering what you’re pondering. Here’s what I want:
I want to never be pregnant.
I want to never have an infant nor a toddler.
I want to have offspring that think and act like my husband, with a little of me thrown in for fun.
I want to someday to be retired and have a house full of adult children who visit for dinner and wine, a’la Brothers & Sisters.
But let me say again I have no interest in an infant, or a toddler.
How do I make this happen??
I KNOW. ME TOO. I want a person we can have conversations about hilarious and interesting things with, who can reason and use an inside voice. I would actually like to bypass ages 0-7. I am looking forward to the teenage years most of all.
I would LOVE to adopt. My husband is having NONE of it, as his biological clock is Ticking. Like. This. and wants a baby of his OOOOWWWNN.
Le sigh.
Agreed.
I never want to go home early because someone is cranky.
I’m kind of curious about being pregnant.
I don’t want to have a post pregnancy body.
I wish science would let me know what our kids would look like…just because I’m curious.
And I hope my nephews will come visit me with their adorable kids when I’m old.
i’m with you. babies make me all clammy and stuttery, but i think someday it’ll just seem like the right time, no?
I feel like I have two years of panic attacks coming. I don’t want a baby. Pregnancy and babies and the complete loss of autonomy terrify me. And yet, I have started stalking mommy blogs. The one with sarcastic smart realistic women talking about pooping during birth and breast milk in their hair. I know I’m trying to prepare myself for something some sick sick part of me desperately wants, even while the other part is screaming NOOOOOOOO.
So yes, I get it. I am terrified and transfixed all at once. I am a car accident of baby hell and love waiting to happen.
OMG. I want to “YES!” and “LIKE!” and “THIS!” all over Becca’s comment.
O.M.G. Once again I thought I was the only person in the ENTIRE world who felt this way. Hallelujah to my fellow anti baby blog friends!! My hub is the same way, he is against adopting and wants a baby of his very own, well then, he can have the baby and I will be the one who takes him to baseball games. 🙂
Love you guys!
I used to say I was on the fence, but now I’m more in the h*ll no category. It helps that B feels the same way (which I didn’t know until about a year ago – so much for having those big talks before you get married, ha). It makes me feel very left out sometimes, since most of my IRL friends are somewhere between baby fever and raising several kids.
We reserve the right to change our minds for now (though we have set a deadline of sorts), and I’ll admit that the science experiment aspect intrigues me (and of course, I think a little Him would be adorable), but I won’t allow it to be the deciding factor. I know too much, after helping raise my 5 siblings. 😉
That said, I do read mom blogs. Both those that make me want gag (gushy or ranty) and those that make it look like a fun challenge. I always end up thinking “better them than me,” though.
Yep. Yep yep yep yep. You said it, all of it. That’s exactly how I feel.
DUUUUDE. I am pregnant. Shit. I know what you mean and specifically what Kerry means. I am not a baby person. I get asked several times daily about how damn excited I must be and hell yes there is a little excitement, but mostly HOLY SHIT what did we do.
As a disclaimer I am writing this from the very emotional third trimester in which I have exactly nothing prepared for my baby due in 10 weeks. Oh dear.
I am pretty certain I want to have kids someday, but I definitely don’t see us as parents anytime soon… Sorta figure i’ll know when I know. I don’t read a ton of mom blogs, but I am totally enthralled/fascinated/scared shitless by NPR’s baby project that’s been going on this month.
Oh DOY, totally neglected to say how ridiculously sweet and rosy-cheeked the beau looks as a wee lad!
You are singing my tune, or at least my tune of 7+ years ago. I hated being pregnant. It was uncomfortable and scary and ended in surgery, which is why it’s so weird that I went ahead and did it twice. I have no real explanation, except that babies mesmerize you with their eyes and toothless, drooling baby smiles. Maybe there is some hypnotic pheromone that emanates from their fontanelles (where they smell the sweetest)? I like your science experiment analogy.
The thing about babies is that their sweetness somehow manages to make the the awful parts (and there will be awful parts) totally worth it. It’s not for everyone, but I think anyone who thinks about it and worries about it as much as you is likely to be a pretty darn good mom. Also, you’re hysterical; your sense of humor will see you through.
There is something to find fascinating and enjoy deep down into your bones about every stage of a child’s life. At each stage, I find myself thinking, “This is my favorite age. It can’t get any better than this.” And then it gets better, and I think, “How lucky am I that they’re such cool kids? Nobody can have kids as cool as mine.” And then we go to my brothers’ houses and I see my niece and nephews, who are also ridiculously cool, which makes me wonder, “Whatever happened to that woman who didn’t want or like kids?”
But the thing is — I didn’t go anywhere at all. I’m still me. I’m just me with kids.
Sarah! You are the best with the words.
Yeah she is.
See, pregnancy and babies don’t scare me one bit. It’s the walking talking bits that terrify me. What happens when they start to think? And have minds of their own. What the fuck do you do then?