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Wednesday, September 12, 2012

32, Single, Childless

I have not blogged in quite a while; life has been somewhat busy and so writing has fallen to the wayside this year. I have been working hard, planning and teaching a Kindergarten class, completed my final teaching prac, switched centres and begun teaching another Kindergarten class and have launched into my final university subjects. After this year, I will be a qualified teacher and the world will be at my feet.

Or will it? I guess that is the starting point for resurrecting my blog. I feel a need to write. I always have. I write about current affairs and topics of interest online in certain forums, I get a nerdy kind of buzz from finishing assignments, and I have slowly but surely been plodding along with my novel. It may or may not ever be published. Sometimes none of those things are enough though. Sometimes I write poetry and sometimes I write my feelings out, just like this but never hit publish. It is hard sometimes to put yourself out there, but it is also one of the best ways to get it out of your system. I wish I had the courage to do it more often.

I digress. Going back to the world being at my feet, or not: I have come to a realisation. I will probably never feel like it is. And there is a reason for this. A highly personal one. No matter what path my career takes, or how much I write, there are things I just cannot see changing. I am 32 in a matter of days. I am single. I am childless. I can’t afford to be a parent on my own. I’ve secretly stopped believing I will meet the love of my life. I feel as though I’ve missed the boat.

It’s funny. I expected that the longer I worked with young children, the more I would grow to appreciate my peace at knock off time. I thought I’d be able to hang out with the kiddies, have my patience tested daily, and then go and home and be grateful to have time to myself. I thought maybe I would want children less. That I’d stop waiting for love. That’d fix me up, right?

Instead, I appreciate my peace and quiet, but somehow want children more. Having other people’s children drown me in cuddles and tell me they love me; watching them reach milestones proudly and learn so much - from me - seems to serve only remind me of what I am missing out on. There are babies and children around me all the time. So many friends are having babies now. I am at that age. By the end of the year I won’t be able to count on both hands the number of people I know or am acquainted with who have had babies, just this year. In fact I feel like every time I log in to face book I am confronted with pregnant bellies, new babies and announcements of engagement. And then I go to work and spend all day around kids.

I guess I just wonder how long I can keep ignoring the feelings of inadequacy and pushing them away. How long can I ignore the pangs of strong hateful jealousy I feel toward anyone pregnant or newly bestowed with a baby? I’m happy for those people at the same time… but, is it healthy? I’m just doing my best, but I still feel like I’m not doing enough. What did I do wrong in my life to be alone and childless at 32? I don’t think any ambition I ever had was as strong as the one I had to be a mother. Yet it may end up being the one ambition I never fulfil. I think I understand how people with fertility problems feel. That want and urgency pokes at your insides daily. When people say “oh you have plenty of time”, and “it’ll happen when the time is right”, I feel even worse. It may not. I haven’t got plenty of time. I have very little. My biological clock might chug to a halt before I find myself in a position to make it happen.

How do I accept that this may be the case? I can’t find peace with that outcome yet. I can handle being alone. But I can't imagine living my life without my own children.

Am I just being dramatic because I turn 32 in less than 2 weeks? Or is this a normal feeling?


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