Skip to main content

prone to wander.

The other day I was talking with someone about Kelli Corigan’s new book. Particuarly the end of the book. Where her friend, who just turned 40, decided that she was going to try and get pregnant from a sperm bank. Because even though she did not have a husband she wanted nothing more than to be a mom.

My friend talked about how she might have done the same thing had she been in her shoes. Or would at least consider it. Because she so desperately wanted to be a mother. And thankfully she is to a couple of beautiful girls. And I stared back at her a little blankly because I have never wondered down this path.
And I felt so unsettled because I don’t think that seed is planted in me so strongly.
The mothering seed.

Don’t get me wrong.
I wanted my babies.
We tried for them.
I talked my husband into them.
I might even want another.
And I love them fiercely.
I would walk through fire for them.
I’d give them both my kidneys. Without a second thought.

But sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had certain freedoms back.
Like the freedom to go to a movie whenever I want.
Or the freedom to go to the bathroom by myself.
Or sleep all night with out someone waking me up.
And especially the freedom to wander.

And so when someone asks me …what maybe I would do if I were my age and single.
My brain doesn’t jump to being a mother and how I’d make that happen or miss it or so desperately want it.
Instead I think of all the places I could go and things I could do.
I think of the things that for now have to wait.
My single friends who have been to Africa and Austrailia and Italy. While I make lots of trips to the land of Target.
Not a day passes where I don’t think I want to go to ________ ( Haiti or New York or Africa or Austin or Maine). I don’t want to run away from my life. At least not for very long. And I’m not saying I can’t still go to some of these places. I can. But there are more pressing needs(like diapers and dinner). I'd also take more risks.
Because taking risks is tricky when you have little ones depending on you.
My decisions need to be about my family. Not just me.

And most of the time I'm so glad it's not just me.
And these two are well worth the wait.
If I had to pick. I’d still pick my life all over again.
The one with drive-thrus and soccer games and bounce house parties instead of passport stamps and fancy restaurants and professional prestige.

And maybe sometimes it is still ok to let my mind wander…even if I don’t.
Labels:

Comments

Knox McCoy said…
I really liked this. Very honest and open and I appreciate that.

It takes courage to admit that honesty, but it takes even more to put those desires on hold.

Thanks for sharing.
May 12, 2010 at 9:29 AM
Margie said…
A friend of mine went the sperm bank route and is very glad she did, although having read "The Genius Factory," I wonder when her son will begin to get intensely curious about his father.

Like you, I never wanted to work so hard for kids, and even came darn close to not having any which scares the heck out of me. But, even now, I don't long for what else is out there anymore. With my children, I have finally found my place. I've been contemplating a post about this, so you'll probably see something about it fairly soon.
May 12, 2010 at 9:41 AM
Katie Delp said…
I so relate...thanks for posting
May 13, 2010 at 6:00 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

voice

I remember waking up the day after the election tired and stunned. When I got to work I went downstairs to make copies and make some tea and did not make it back to my classroom until right before the tardy bell rang. I have a large class, full of all kinds of students from all kinds of backgrounds. I had not even thought about how they would respond to the election and that since we begin school so early that I might be the first adult they saw that day.  Immediately an African American on the front row told me that she was disappointed in our country. I teach science, not government and thought that I needed to turn the conversation as quickly as I could safely back to the objectives on the board, but I could not ignore her hurt and the rest of the quiet in the room. I told her that  regardless of what candidate she supported that this country is run by more than one person, that very soon she would be able to vote, that she had a voice. Behind her, a student that also ha...
1 comment
Read more

different

Someone recently sent me a meme about tattoos. I reminded them that I have over half a dozen, although none in such obvious places as the picture. I thought about it while I washed my hair, and how once my hair was also purple, and what kind of memes could be found about that. And also, my nose was pierced. Other than the first two tattoos, none of these were things I did in my youth. All were in my thirties. Currently my hair is a plain brown in a sensible cut. My tattoos all easily hidden with most clothing and only my ears are pierced. As this decade closes I have made efforts to dress more professionally, drink less, stay on top of the laundry although I still refuse to make my bed and talk at an appropriate volume level. Yet, I only looked back on my purple-haired days with longing rather than regret. See, I used to do those things to be different.   Sometimes I’d feel just a little trapped by my suburban life although perfect, felt a little too predictable. I fel...
Post a Comment
Read more

nickel and dime

Recently my son wanted to buy something that he had saved up his money for. A lava lamp. And he had the cash for it. The only problem was that most of it was in change. So he filled his pockets with about ten pounds of coinage and we headed to the store. Now, the easiest thing would be for me to put it on my debit card. With the few other items I of course needed. But I wanted him to own every bit of the process (and learn a thing or two about sales tax). So I glared at the people behind us who were muttering as my sweet guy counted out his change. All 14.99 + tax of it. And he proudly took home his new lava lamp carrying it oh so carefully to the car. Because it was his. He had bought it with his own hard earned cash. One quarter, dime and nickel at a time. I haven’t bought anything more than a cup of coffee with change in years. But in high school and college I used to do it all the time. I’d raid my dad’s change box and buy pizza. I’d gather up all the change in my cup...
10 comments
Read more