About a year and a half ago I thought I was pregnant again for about as long as it took me to walk to the drugstore and back and take an at-home pregnancy. I cried out, “Oh, god!” and Kurt, waiting on the other side of the bathroom door yelled, “What?!” I got my period WHILE peeing on the stick. Kurt let out the breath he had been holding for about an hour, and said, “I would do it all again with you, but you have more important things to do right now.”
When Monty was just over a year old, I got pregnant again. We were broke and I had experienced a massive hormonal crash when Monty was about five-months-old that almost sent me into in-patient mental health treatment. I felt overwhelmed and ill-equipped to parent the child I had. Bringing another one into the world at that time felt like the wrong thing to do. So, I had an abortion. It was the right choice for myself and my family at the time.
(Please don’t bother posting any comments or contacting me regarding your own political or social beliefs about abortion. I firmly believe that abortion is a fundamental right and is part of healthcare. Humans have been doing it since the dawn of time. We should all be able to make decisions about our own bodies and lives without someone else interfering. It’s not going to change my mind. Calling me a “murderer” is a) false and b) pointless. Go write it in your journal. Or blog about it. I don’t care. Nothing you say to me will change my opinion. Thanks. Also? Your republican “leaders” honestly don’t give a shit about abortion. They just know that misinformed people will vote for them if they claim to be anti-abortion.)
I wrote in my last blog about how hard I had been working to rebuild my acting career in the last five years. Having a baby when I did stalled the progress I had been making. I was making up for many years of disappointing results in my efforts to rebuild my career. But over the last year, every few months, I have desperately wanted to have another baby. Whenever it happens, I wait it out and talk myself out of it. A couple months go by, and I find myself again, with a deep longing to get pregnant again.
But this time it dawned on me that I might be robbing myself of something I truly want, and I’m not entirely sure why. What if I keep talking myself out of having another child, and then I hit menopause and I live the rest of my life with regret? And what if this is the best time to do it?
A vaccine won’t be available for another year to year-and-a-half at best. So, we’re going to be stuck at home anyway. My focus has been shifting to writing, which doesn’t require anything of my physical appearance. I understand things about baby-rearing that I didn’t when I had Monty. And look at Monty. He’s terrific! And he’s been saying how lonely he is lately. I know a baby isn’t a great playmate, but it’s better than nothing. Plus, he would be a great big brother. I have so many friends with babies, that I could probably get nearly everything I need handed down to me. I see photos of successful women I admire, nursing their babies while getting shit done and I’m like, I can DO that.
On the other hand. I’m going to be 41 in a few months. Kurt is 52. I suffer from depression and anxiety and take life-saving meds for it. I don’t know what would happen if I had to go off my meds, but history has shown that to be dangerous for me. I sometimes feel like I have no time for myself and have spent a good portion of my life extremely tired. Will I feel completely frazzled and exhausted with a baby? What if it’s sick? Not to mention this country is an absolute dumpster fire and I’m not sure if it will get any better. Or if it is going to get better, I worry that it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets better. What if we have to flee? What if the country plummets into utter chaos? What if there are massive food shortages? What if I have a girl and I have to spend the rest of my life worried about her sexual and physical safety?
But I find myself spending a lot of time thinking about what it might be like to raise a gender-neutral kid. What names would I pick? How much energy would I be spending on explaining and defending my choices to people who have no business asking in the first place? When would they know their gender? I think about what I would do differently. I think about what personality traits I would hope for. I think about how it would affect Monty’s life for better or for worse.
I’ve always said that I don’t trust people who make declarative statements about themselves. Unless they add “for now” to them. And I have publicly voiced my frustration with overpopulation and with people having multiple children when there are so many children already born in need of a good home. And I think mainly I’ve learned that it’s none of my business. Just as I would never question a woman’s decision to have an abortion, I should never question her decision to have a baby. It is such a personal and private thing. And life is twisty. And people have been having babies for as long as people have been people. In all kinds of conditions, for all kinds of reasons, in all kinds of circumstances. Mine are not unique or rare.
Maybe I’ll wait until after election day…