Growing up I never thought twice about kids. I loved kids – playing house with dolls evolved into babysitting and volunteering to help in the classrooms of younger kids. I was great with kids and they loved me.
When I was in college, I was stupid. On many levels. And I got pregnant. It was one of the roughest things in my life – to date. Which being damn near 20 years later says something. It didn’t work out for many reasons. The how and why I wrote about once, but this post isn’t about that experience.
Even after that experience I still thought I might have kids in the future. Although, it scared me to the point that I questioned if it was my one chance. Then I fell in love for the umpteenth time and got married. Sadly, that didn’t work out either. And during that marriage and all the adulting and growing I had to do during that time I slowly gave up on the idea of having kids. To the point I was adamantly against having kids.
After the marriage dissolved I dated. I was lucky in that I found guys who for their own reasons also didn’t want kids. But then a ‘what if’ happened. Most likely it was a weird medication related thing, but for a very long 69 days I wondered if I was pregnant again. Of course, during that time frame the guy I had been with for over a year had broken up with me, thus making the situation more stressful. But it awakened in me a need.
Actually several needs. In addition to realizing that maybe I did want to have a kid, I also realized that I had been searching for a long time for belonging. Again, that goes to a lot of deep psychological things over a lifetime that I won’t get into in this post. This other need led me to Judaism. It was here that I found a family and felt so connected and supported like never before (even though many people did their best – from blood family, my exhusband and his family, and others.)
Part of the healing that learning about and practicing Judaism was embracing the idea of kids. Now, there is a double edged sword because being an adult that isn’t a parent or grandparent there are a lot of gaps and salt in wounds that many may not realize. It is never done on purpose. But it stings a lot regardless.
Several months ago I met a guy whom I’ve been dating since. We had the discussion about wanting a serious relationship and kids on the first call he made to me to ask me out for our first date. Bonus that he is Jewish and understands the value and importance that the Jewish community has for kids. I have a feeling this might go somewhere. Of course, it might not, too. I’m still assessing him and he probably is me too. 😉
I have a close friend who went through a lot in trying to have children, many years of pain, frustration, anger, and medical treatments. Luckily, she had her miracles, all three of them. I’ve read many accounts of others regarding their experience with infertility.
I’m already 39. This has so many risks and possible issues inherent with the concept of pregnancy. Even though my guy and I are still early in our relationship each of the past few months I’ve started to notice something. In each of the infertility stories there is talk about the frustration, anger, questioning, etc that accompanies each new period. A reminder that something you want and is getting less likely as time marches on is slipping further away from you. It seriously has started to move me to tears.
This journey has been a very interesting one. No one knows what the future holds. But even when not even trying, it is odd how I am paralleling the emotions of those who have been.