Last weekend I was told that my biological clock was ticking. I even received links (that I didn’t bother reading) about the risks involved in having a child after 35. No…it was not my family hounding me about having a baby, but I felt personally attacked by someone who would tell you he loves me.
First, let’s take a breather and remember that I’m only 32 years old. I’m not too old to have a kid, start a new career or to wear bright blue nail polish, even if some people in my life see fit to make me believe otherwise. I’m in my early thirties. I live alone, and I take care of myself, and I’m proud of myself for making major changes in my life. I’ve experienced tremendous emotional growth, and I’m still changing. I went back to school last year to pursue a degree in a field that has opened up an entirely new world to me, and I have recommitted to finishing what I started in weight-loss.
I’m 32 years old. I don’t have a husband, nor am I in a healthy, happy relationship that would make me consider bringing a little human into the world at this point. I’m not sure why it’s so important to married and unmarried people with kids to project those desires on me. I’m a terrific aunt, and I love my niece as much as I could ever love a person. Of course I’d like to experience that kind of love with a child of my own, but I’m not ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, and that’s okay with me right now.
Having a child has never been a serious consideration for me because I’ve never been married, and for most of my adult life, I have been obese. I realize that women my size often give birth, but I personally don’t see a reason to put myself and a tiny, helpless life at risk because of my size. I feel more comfortable at this weight than I did at 400 pounds, but a child wouldn’t be on my agenda at this point, even if I had already fallen in love and married The Future Mrs. Kenz whom I’ve discussed here before.
It’s not easy to express how hurtful it was to hear that I have a couple of good years left before I should turn to adoption, or simply not bother. (Adoption sounds like a wonderful idea, by the way.) I know that the person who shared the statistics wasn’t being cruel intentionally, but he failed to see why his assertion that the only way to do it is to do so by 35, hit a nerve with me.
I would love to fall in love, get married, move back to the city I want to live in most, buy a place and live happily ever after – all in the next 2.25 years, but who knows if that’s in the cards for me? What I do know is that shoving statistics down my throat from doctors who have never met me or examined me, and reminding me that 35 is the cut off before I’m “high risk” definitely won’t make anything happen any faster. If anything, it will just squelch my desire to make any of it happen because I’m already “too late.”
Whether we are sharing our lives on the internet, or we are simply opening up to people that we deem trustworthy, we subject ourselves to thoughtless judgment. If you know me, you know I’m no stranger to that realization, but I have also learned throughout my journey that sometimes showing love and respect to someone is more important than being right. Sometimes taking feelings into consideration is more important than winning a debate, especially since changing someone’s mind is a difficult thing to do.
So if you think I’m too old to have a family, get a new job or paint my fingernails bright blue, then get ready for some major disappointment. I’ve created goals and achieved success in my life before, but I’ve done it on my terms and in my own time. This is my life, and I will live it in a way that brings joy and happiness to me and the people I’m lucky enough to love.
Until then…I’ll continue to wear blue nail polish if I want to.