Genesis

I thought it might be fun to copy over my journal entry from the day it first occurred to me to try to have a baby on my own. This was a week after my aunt Bertie's death.

11/6/10  12:38 PM

Have an insane thought that I can only admit to you, as that’s what journals are for.  I fully expect this thought to pass in the next few days, and I know it’s a direct result of my grief at Bertie dying.  But this idea has presented itself and has really made me think.  The idea is…to have a baby.  By myself.

This is something I NEVER would have considered before.  In fact, I often railed against women intentionally bringing fatherless children into the world, and thought how awful for them to have to do it alone.  But it’s funny how age and experience changes you.  The simple fact is this – if I’m even capable now at my age, my childbearing years are pretty limited; realistically I only have maybe a couple of years left before it becomes impossible.  I highly doubt I’m going to meet someone, date, get married, and get pregnant in the next year and a half.  My experience with X definitely plays a factor in all this, too – just reminds me how impossible it is to make it work with men my age (they’re all losers) and how impossible it’s going to be to make it work with someone in time to have a child.  I always talk about how much it sucks to be a woman and have to wait for some man to choose you before you can have a family, and what if no man ever does…but the fact is, in today’s world, you DON’T have to wait.  You can make it happen all by yourself, just as I made my business happen and I made home buying happen.  You can actually be a mom of your own biological child without waiting around for a man to pick you to have a child with.  It’s a wild thought, but oddly comforting.  That yes, I’m only 38, not 45, and yes, it’s still a possibility if this is something I decide I want to do.

The biggest negative to me is finances.  Can I afford to raise a child?  I’m tempted to say no, but there are people far worse off than me doing it.  Getting pregnant is amazingly cheap – just $500 per insemination, and assuming you have to do it around 5 times, we’re looking at $2500.  Piece of cake.  Then of course there’s the health insurance of maternity and a child, which I’m sure is no joke, but can’t be more than I’m currently spending on travel every year (between $5000 - $10,000 a year).  But I do worry about the money – I’m no Murphy Brown, what if the (business) takes a serious dump, how could I possibly make money, get a job, with a baby in tow, all by myself?  I mean, this idea assumes that everything goes well – that I continue to make the same living I’m making now for the next ten years or so (of course I’ve already pulled it off for 13 years, including two crappy recession years), that the kid is healthy physically and mentally and doesn’t have any special needs beyond food & clothes.  What if the kid is sick, autistic, mentally challenged?  The odds are pretty good in someone my age.  What if the (business) goes down?  There’s no one who can take care of me.  And my options will be pretty severely limited with a child and no one to help.

The other negative is judgment – I’m sure there are many people I know, I can name them right now, who will NOT be supportive, and many people will change their opinions of me.  It will affect all of my relationships, it will change everything. 

So, with all this negative, why, you ask, would I even consider this?  Well, here’s the thing.  It’s just larger than me.  At the moment, my own personal freedom, enjoyment, free time, doesn’t seem to matter as much as the fact that my genes are just crying out to be able to live on.  Bertie is gone, and soon the others will go as well, and the number of people on this planet genetically linked to me are shrinking.  I simply cannot stand the idea of our whole family dying out and nobody being left here to remember us and carry on our legacy.  What does it matter?  Well, I guess in the scheme of things it doesn’t matter.  Plenty of families disappear due to wars, illnesses, natural disasters.  Nobody cares, and it doesn’t matter.  But if you saw your family disappearing, and you knew there was something you could do about it, wouldn’t you at least consider it? 

So how would it change my life?  Dramatically, I know that.  Even just the small details – putting that wall back so I can have a second bedroom again, getting up early with the kid, not being able to travel, not being able to go out as much as I once did.  My biggest obstacle, as with the dog, would be finding a solution for the times I do have to go out – the occasional gig, the occasional night out dancing.  I have no support network, no parents or family members who could step in and baby sit.  But I bet you I could find friends who could help, get involved in those mommy groups where we could trade babysitting duties, and again with the dance world so baby centric right now, most places I go I could bring the baby anyway.  In other words, where there’s a will, there’s a way.  Yes, it would be difficult, and yes, it would curb my social life, for sure.  But with most people in my social circle having babies anyway, I don’t really see a problem since they mostly do kid friendly activities now.

In other ways I’m totally set up to be a stay at home, hands on mom.  I’m home all day, I have no responsibilities, I’m only busy a couple of months out of the year, and with proper delegating and changing of duties I could even curb this.  I live in an excellent school district.  So the physical part, the being there part, I could do.  I don’t have to go to a full time job like most single moms.  I have a well established business that should for all intents and purposes continue on as it has done.  There’s nothing else I want to do – I mean, I love traveling, but a couple more trips and I’ll have been everywhere I wanted to go, and I can always pick it up again once the kid grows up.  There will be no more events, no more activities I can dream up to keep myself entertained.  Basically, this is it, this is my life.  And it’s a good life and I like it, and it wouldn’t be a tragedy if I never had kids, but all that’s happened lately has made me wonder – what if I did?

So the plan is to just think about it, research it, and not tell anyone.  It’s nothing I would do right this second, but I’ll tell you – if I decide I still want to do it, I would think about it after the next (event).  So when I’m 39 going on 40, maybe the winter/spring of 2012.  And in the end I may not even be able to get pregnant, or hold a pregnancy, so it may all be a moot point.  But with X gone and Bertie gone it’s really made me consider it for the first time.

(Editor's note: obviously I have chosen not to wait a year and have pretty much told everyone, including putting all my deepest fears/concerns/evil thoughts on the internet for the world to read.  So much for that!)