Crybaby

Last week I gave myself permission to cry for the children I'll never have.

Let me explain a bit: Obviously I didn't reproduce. It wasn't a Zero Population Growth decision, even though I sometimes say it was because that's an easy answer, one that curious friends and relatives can understand. Instead, it was more of a non-decision. Mostly, I just never wanted to, never felt the kind of overwhelming longing my friends talk about. In fact, I always thought children and babies were boring. My mom recently told me that I announced when I was in grade school that I was never going to be a mommy, a confession I don't remember making.

So why the tears? I was on a long car trip, staring out the window at the corn fields of Iowa, and I thought about what it would be like to have kids, and if I'd love the little buggers a lot, and if I'd love my husband even more than I do now because of what we created together. And I can't deny it: I got all choked up. I tried to repress the tears, because it's too late now and I'm tough. But then I thought: Why hold back? Why not mourn a little? What's the harm? It doesn't mean I made a mistake. It's like thinking about any path you might have taken in life but didn't: What if I'd never broken up with Billy? What if I didn't move? Would my life be better? More fulfilling?

Of course, once I gave myself permission, the tears didn't spill. The moment passed, I turned from the window, fiddled with the radio and thought about lunch.

But who knows? Now that I can, maybe one day I'll have that cry. For now, I'd like to say good-bye to my never-conceived offspring, a fond farewell to the phantom fruit of my loins.

And that reminds me of this hilarious song!

Facebook Twitter Email Digg Delicious Stumbleupon
 

Brains on sale now!

Converted To Blogger Template by Anshul Theme By- WooThemes