Even though it's Friday (and the 13th to boot!) I'm going to post something more serious here. Mainly because I need to think this out, and for some reason LJ is a good format for me to do so. But, anyhow, here's the deal: I'm in grad school. Have been for almost five full years. I'll be finishing sometime in the next six months--I think (or at least hope and pray). Anyhow, I work with a lot of nasty chemicals, and on top of being insanely busy most of the time, hubby and I obviously have a reproductive success of zip, zilch, nada. This really doesn't bother me much. I mean, sure, I'm pushing 30, but that's the age that every other female in my family has started their family. So, I don't feel any real rush. And, to be honest, any real desire for offspring. I'm not a kid person. There are many reasons for this, but suffice it to say that my household growing up has pretty much led me to the certainty that I am probably not the top choice to be a parent. Plus, I love my career. I love free time (what little I have of it) and the time to do writing, practice calligraphy, or kirigami--just a few of the things I've been doing in those spare few minutes I have. I know I won't have those at all when kids come.
The problem? My husband. He wants kids. Like, a LOT. It's been a bone of contention for ages. Lately, it's come to a head, again, and he can hardly even look at me. It hurts. I don't want to lose my husband because I want to work. Because I don't want to just be a walking, talking uterus for him. Because, that's what it feels like. He doesn't want ME, he wants me to have kids for HIM. And then to raise them, keep them clean and happy, and out of his hair. Because, let's face it here, he's not going to be helping me much in the parenting department. He about flipped out the other night when I pointed out that he hasn't done the dishes in months. And don't get me started on the fact that he can't remember anything, let alone that to pick up a kid from practise or that we need milk. Oh, and seeing as how I can't get him to wake up enough to move from the couch to bed without getting my head bitten off, let's get real about late night baby duty. I keep thinking about these things and I KNOW I CAN'T DO THE WHOLE RAISE A KID THING ALONE. I'll need his help. And I'm looking at how things stand now and I know I won't get it. So am I excited to start a family? Am I thinking I can even do it? No. Not at all. And I don't know what to do.
It's not like I can even talk to him about this. He won't listen to my criticism without getting totally defensive and argue every little point with me. I can't argue with him. I just start crying and that makes things go from bad to worse, and quite frankly I'm a shitty arguer. So, I'm stuck. I have a million concerns and no way to address them. I'm scared to death to have children with this man, but don't want to lose him either. I don't think I can have it both ways. It just won't work. And I hate it.
On a more personal note, I am scared to not be "me" with kids. I don't want to be one of those people whose whole world revolves around their kids. Kids grow up and leave. And then what? I'll have wasted my life for some new generation? I don't just want to be a uterus. I know I've said that, but it's true. That's all anyone wants from me. Yeah, sure, raising the next generation all that? Great. But what about THIS generation? What about making a difference in the world TODAY? Am I only here to make a better tomorrow? That just doesn't make sense. And, I don't want to get fat. I hate looking in the mirror already--it makes my physically sick. Add stretch marks and an extra twenty pounds? No thanks. I'll find something sharp first.
I need help and I don't know what to do.
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