Family Ties

My mother was married at the ripe age of 28. She had her first of two at 30.

My grandfather had his first of three children at 30.

My great-grandmother, and my namesake, had first of her four children at 30.

So, here I am, having just turned 29. On one hand, I feel free of the imaginary binding that said I had to be married at 28. When I met, and had an affair, with a 40 year-old when I was 28, I was simultaneously excited and frightened (my father was 40 when they were married). Now, I'm 29 and he's 41 and I feel a little relieved that I have dodged that bullet.

But the bullet is him, only, not the prospect of marrying. Not the future life with someone, the pitter patter and all that. I want to get married. I desperately want to have children. And yet. . .

I see what my married friends have and do, and what my parented friends have and do, and for the most part I am not envious. Yes, it would be handy to have someone around to help me fix the ceiling fan, or to take out the trash, or to yell at me for not doing the dishes. But to check in with someone, always, to feel my personal and professional life (after hours) is in direct competition with that someone, to handle the resentment and the checking in and the constant accountability. I have the freedom now to make decisions on a whim, to change my mind, to be selfish.

Most days, I still doubt I'll meet someone I want to marry who also wants to marry me. I know that's trite and everyone else tells me that I'm silly and that's what they thought until they met The One. But it's still how I feel.

More than anything, I worry that I don't actually want to be a wife as much as I want to be a mother. Nothing is less attractive than a woman who doesn't need you, right?

I've got one more year to have a baby. And while I know THAT is silly, based on the genetics, I still seem to believe it.