I am happy. Until I meet flaky acquaintances who are only good at dispensing advice. When I wasn’t wearing a ring, my marriage was on the talks. And now when I am wearing one, they conduct the baby quiz. And I am thunderstruck at not being allowed even this indulgence when I wish to.
It’s hard to believe, but often it’s me who gets the label.Always something’s “wrong” with me because I am not “there” yet.
“You are too ambitious!” .Yes, I wish. The problem is I am really not. I am just stupid. Stupid who? The One who increments the tediousness of life by always doing everything on her own and raises the imaginary "perfection" bar over her own head. Perfect food, perfect home, perfect experiments, perfect relationships...blah blah and blah! Hence I'm slow and working twice as hard. I wish I was tad simpler in my head.
“You are growing old”. Yes, the biological clock ticks me off too. But I want to think this through and become a parent when we both are prepared to become one and hopefully when we are biologically capable of being one too.
Lastly, I wish I could express my deep rooted abhorrence for the argumentative “You are being selfish. It’s you who doesn't want a child”. For the records, I am not holding a knife against my husband’s balls. I think the baby idea is even not on his radar.
In nutshell, I don’t wish to be persuaded that someone else’s idea of happiness should be mine. There is no reference guide to life. The idea of becoming a mother moves me, and the idea of not becoming one scares me as much. And who knows? May be somewhere up there where babies are made, my teeny-weey blob is getting done too. And the day I wish for it, hold it and gobble it up silly would be my day of bliss.