A baby? No thanks. I’m saving my womb for the alien apocalypse.
This weekend my husband Chris and I are going to a family reunion. It’s my family. Puerto Rican. Loud. And all over your business.
My grandparents are celebrating their 60th wedding anniversary and while I’m both thrilled and honored to be a part of such a magnanimous event, I’m dreading the question that I know, for sure, will be repeating itself. Over. And Over. Again.
What are you waiting for to have kids? Don’t you want kids? Why don’t you want kids?
That’s more like three questions. But they all sound like one long run-on question.
“Well,” I want to tell them, “it’s not that I don’t want kids. It’s that I’m saving my womb for the alien apocalypse. You know, like Sigourney Weaver in the movie Aliens.”
I’ve even thought about coming up with a code word so Chris can intervene on my behalf in those awkward moments. “Gobbledygook” is the top contender. I can say it loudly as I pat my head repeatedly in the fashion of Elaine in that Seinfeld episode.
I love my family. I really do. But their look of crushing disappointment every time I tell them I do not wish to conceive a child at this point in my life, drive me bonkers. All of my life’s accomplishments fall short of this one thing I have no desire to do.
I love children and I love moms. I also know from talking to my sister (a mom of three) and all my mommy friends, that motherhood is freaking hard. In fact, I am certain it’s the hardest job in the known universe and beyond. I have the outmost respect for their incredible dedication and the many sacrifices they happily make every day.
And even more, I love being a step-mom. I can’t imagine my life without Alex and Caleb and the deep family bond we now share.
In reality I am surrounded by kids. I have step-kids, nieces, nephews, my friend’s kids… heck you should see my Facebook feed! And yet to some that is not enough. To them I say, “gobbledygook.” Really loud. So that Chris can hear me and pull me away, before I start rambling of wombs and Aliens.