If I were to actually get someone pregnant I would be freakin elated as I am a woman and that would translate into beaucoup bucks. Damn, I wish I could knock a bitch up. That would be way better than the alternative.
I’ve had 2 beautiful children. One boy, one girl. One of each gender- one who will eat dirt and play with worms and one who will wear tutu’s and glitter and want a pony one day. Or vice versa. Either way I’m good. Solid. There isn’t a part of me that is still quietly wishing for another. I’ll miss them being so little and needing me so much one day, but I figure I’ll get a dog and nip that want right in the ass when it happens.
Aside from that? I’m 35. I’m hypertensive. I’m fucking exhausted with my life as it is. There’s simply no extra space for another being in my world. Right now my own personal worst case scenario would be getting pregnant. It’s not something that I could handle. Not physically, not financially, not mentally.
My body wears the war scars of carrying a child, of bearing one. Stretch marks, widened hips, and we won’t even talk about my boobs. The maladies I have incurred post-children are insane. My joints pop. My neck and back hurt so bad at times that I cannot even turn my head. My arms ache after carrying a baby for too long. I get sick more often. I don’t sleep. My body is, simply put, tired. It’ has worked hard and created amazing beings, but it’s done with that kind of work now. Shop is closed, people.
So what if it happened? What if I woke up pregnant tomorrow? What would I do? I’d panic. I’d cry. I’d take about 17 tests to be sure. And then? Then I don’t know. That is something I simply can’t answer. There would be long talks involved. Plans made. Things discussed openly. This isn’t a question I can answer, not honestly, not now. I pop my birth control pills at the same time each day and feel like I have some control over this potential situation. But I also know accidents happen. Pills fail. So should that quandary ever cross my path, I will handle it then. And only then.