That Age-Old Question of Carrying on One’s Genes

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This year has gone by like the blink of an eye for me. You have to understand, I’m a really late bloomer. I’ve always been smart, and mature, and people looked to me for advice on what to do with their own lives, while I could barely keep a hold of my own. But I hid it really well. That’s what growing up in alcoholism does to you. You become a chameleon, trying to fit in, trying to find that niche that will let you feel like you belong for the first time in your life.

Don’t get me wrong – there’s not a lot I regret about my life. I’ve definitely lived, and had a great time doing it. I always thought that I just “hadn’t found the right person/job/town/friend/career/etc., etc.” and that sooner or later it would appear.

I didn’t care about things like retirement, 401 K, savings accounts… Green Cards, little things like that. I was sure that I would become a famous singer or actress (or not even famous, but enough to live on) and that would take care of it all. That was my 20s.

I moved to L.A. when I was 30 and spent quite a few years trying to fit in – it was such a culture shock from Boston. I hooked up with one alcoholic/drug addict after the other, and kept thinking, “why won’t they marry me?” It was only after I got into 12-step recovery that I found out I was as much to blame as them. Deep down, I really didn’t want to get married because I thought I wasn’t worthy.

After several years cleaning up my past mistakes, and really learning about myself and why I do the things I do, I was told I was ready to date. I really didn’t want to, as I was in fear of a lot of things, namely rejection, especially in LA. I was terrified but I did it anyway.

I bit the bullet and went on Match.com. I had several really horrible dates; including one where I said I was going to the bathroom and actually walked out the back door and left him there he was so rude. I had some good ones too, but somewhere inside, I knew it wasn’t “right.”

Then, I got “winked” at by this guy on Match.com. I checked out his profile and almost deleted him. But something told me not to go by first impressions and to at least talk to him. We started very slowly and e-mailed back and forth. I let him send me his phone number, and we talked. Short, friendly conversations that didn’t drag on and just let each other know we were interested.

After a while of phone calls, we arranged to meet at Priscilla’s in Burbank. I got there early and waited round the side of the coffee house, until I realized he was late! I phoned my friend and she was going to come pick me up, but I wanted to give him another chance. I walked around the other side of the coffee house, and there he was, phoning his brother saying, “she stood me up.”

After laughing and getting the awkwardness out of the way, we sat down to talk. And we talked, and talked, and talked. We closed Priscilla’s down. He was much more handsome than his picture and so sweet. I felt something inside that I couldn’t nail down but it felt good… I felt happy.

I was definitely hooked. So fast forward to today, three years later… I moved in with him after two years, and the year after that he proposed two days before my 40th birthday. To top that, we got married in San Francisco two months later while we were there for a CAL football game.

That’s where we are now. We’ve been married for three months, and I can’t believe that happiness like this exists. It’s borne out of hard work, respect, and the willingness to work whatever may come up, out. A good friend of mine told me – it’s all about choice. It’s a choice to be married – and if you want to be married, then be married. If you want to be divorced, be divorced. It sounds simple, but it really is a choice to be happy and to want to work at it.

Now, let’s get down to the nitty gritty of what this year has plopped in my lap after all of this. I went in for my yearly exam five weeks ago and was told I have ovarian cysts. Kinda funny since I’ve been on the Pill on and off since I was 16 to deal with this issue. So, in between my amazement that this was actually happening, and wanting to be healthy, I decided to have them removed. This is where it gets good.

It’s not bad enough that my whole life people have been asking, “so when are you going to get married?” but now that I am, it’s become perfectly acceptable and appropriate for strangers, and close friends, and parents, to ask the extremely personal question, “so when are you going to get pregnant?”

I think that this is just the rudest question there is.

How can people be so flip, so carefree, in asking something that should be no one else’s business but your doctor’s and you and your spouse’s? And then add to that insult, injury – “Well, you are 40 you know and you better get moving.” Holy shit! I’m 40? When did that happen? Oh yeah! Right after getting engaged and before getting married.

Listen… I know how old I am. I look in the mirror every day, and trust me, I’m not in denial. Every time you ask me when I’m going to have a baby, you probably push it back for me a few months. It’s none of your business, as well-meaning as you are.

When I had the ovarian cysts removed, they also found out I had endometriosis, and uterine fibroids. I was in a lot of pain, and just thought it was normal. That’s how messed up I am. I don’t know what “normal” is. I’ve got enough going on in my head with learning how to be a wife, dealing with the fact I am losing my job on March 29, and getting up to deal with my cretin of a boss every day without wanting to slit my wrists. I don’t want to even THINK about bringing another life into the world without getting my own together first.

And who knows what kind of mother I’d be? Everyone says I’d be an awesome mother, but I am not so sure. I have NEVER (let me repeat that) NEVER had “ooh” and “ahh” feelings when I see babies. I think that children are adorable (especially when they’re brought up properly with like, manners and stuff 🙂 ) and I like being around them, but I don’t feel that pull, that squinchiness in my belly, to actually have my own.

Genes

I just want to enjoy being a newlywed for a while, is that so wrong? We’re still getting to know one another, learning about each other and how to communicate. I think it would be a great disservice to both of us, since we are ambiguous about the whole thing right now, to bring a child into that.

I love my husband very much. I know in my heart that we will be guided to do what is right for us, and no one else, if we keep growing and learning about one another and ourselves. If that means having a child, then it will happen, or it won’t. It is not the be-all and end-all for me, or him. I’m thankful that we’re in the exact same place about this and have the chance to grow together and decide together without one of us feeling like we aren’t getting what we want.

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