There is really nothing remarkable or new or mind blowing for me to share today, except that if you were to ask me how I was feeling right now about “trying” to have a baby, I would tell you that I am currently nestled quite firmly in the “terrified” end of the spectrum. I’m not particularly worried about my terror, because since I stopped refilling my birth control prescription in May, I’ve vacillated between total, absolute certainty that this is the right decision and total, absolute, crippling fear that this is the worst decision in the history of the world, so this current slump is nothing new.
Reasons I am sure this is the right decision:
1) I am married to the love of my life.
2) We are both employed working with children – meaning, we’ll obviously be excellent parents.
3) We are renting a (very small) bungalow house and have our own washer and dryer. (As ridiculous as that sounds, it is such an incredible boon to have a laundry room while renting in Los Angeles.)
4) We’ve wanted children together since we met five years ago.
5) We are responsible adults with loving families who have tabled all the subtleties and are now just blatantly asking for a baby before they all get too old to remember a new name.
Reasons I find this decision horrifying:
1) Money. Always. I’ve just come out of a crazy two years of graduate school, in a field I’m not sure I even want to pursue anymore, so we’re recovering from the major trauma of being a one-income household while paying for an advanced degree for 36 months. Money. Always.
2) I am not exactly where I want to be, career-wise, for the rest of my life.
When my brain is calm and my bank account swells with a new paycheck and I visit my friends’ babies, I am convinced this is right. Perhaps, in times like these, I just need to listen to my gut and trust the universe. That would be easier if the universe provided me with some more money.