Dear Biological Clock (or “you relentless nag” as I sometimes refer to you),
We need to have a chat. Your antics lately have been downright outrageous. Much like my spirited, 14-month-old son, you occasionally ignore my “no” and completely disregard requests to tone it down. My only option left seems to be publicly venting, like other parents do online.
Let’s be real: I appreciate the push you provided. If my overly-cautious, hyper-organized self had been in charge, I might have missed the chance to embrace motherhood for far too long. I’m grateful for your consistent reminders after I hit 30, nudging me toward this beautiful journey. So, I do forgive much of the chaos you bring.
While I can’t stand how you tried to convince me that any man I met was worthy of procreation, I do appreciate how you encouraged me to embrace the incredible partner who is now my husband, helping me overcome my usual apprehension about new faces.
And yes, I acknowledge the ticking clock, so I have managed to accept your constant reminders that my fertility is fleeting.
Most importantly, I’m relieved that you finally decided you wouldn’t be quieted any longer. It would have been great if you had taken a break once we started trying to conceive. Those challenging months of uncertainty would have been a tad easier without your constant nagging. But ultimately, I’m blessed with my son, and I thank you for pushing me to take that leap.
Now, it seems you’ve forgotten a few key events.
You were there throughout the four weeks of prodromal labor. I took you along during endless neighborhood walks, desperate to usher my little one into the world. Did you miss the 27 hours of intense labor, two hours of pushing, and the emergency C-section? Because I certainly didn’t.
Surely you recall the tears I shed during those early weeks. How about my son’s sleepless nights for four months? Does that ring a bell?
Let me take a moment to celebrate the fact that I finally feel like I’ve reclaimed my body. Walking out the door without a breast pump? Pure liberation. Recycling an entire cabinet full of bottles? Amazing! And let’s not forget the sheer joy of indulging in a guilt-free glass of wine!
Here’s the bottom line: I don’t need you right now. I’m not saying never, but I’m giving a firm “probably not” regarding any more children in the near future. So you and your hormonal friends can take a step back.
I refuse to feel guilty about this. If my son has siblings someday, great! If not, he has plenty of cousins to bond with. He’ll be just fine as an only child.
Sure, those newborn clothes I’m buying for a friend are adorable. Remembering how tiny my little guy was does tug at my heartstrings. But then he reaches for me, hugs me, and giggles, and that feeling is so much more rewarding than those days filled with feeding, diaper changes, and crying.
So, please stop planting ridiculous thoughts in my mind. When I say, “I’m not ready to share my attention just yet,” I don’t need you chiming in with, “But think of how great he’d be as a big brother.” We both witnessed him trying to bite the dog again. Trust me; I’m doing any potential future kids a favor by waiting until he’s finished teething.
Lastly, I must admit, you, my hormones, and my uterus may not even get a say if we decide to expand our family. You can thank that masochistic part of me that thought 24 weeks of morning sickness was a good idea, or my friend, the social worker, who opened my eyes to the beauty of adoption for kids in foster care.
What I’m really getting at here is that this decision belongs to the adults in this family, and we are perfectly content with how things are right now. I need you to cease your tantrums and stop trying to push me into decisions I’m not ready for. Or, I swear, I might just schedule my husband for a vasectomy. You’ll have no one to blame but yourself.
Sincerely,
Me
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Summary
In this candid letter to her biological clock, the author humorously expresses her frustration with societal pressures regarding motherhood and family expansion. She reflects on the journey of becoming a mother, the challenges faced, and her current contentment with her family’s size. Ultimately, she asserts her autonomy in making decisions about her future, emphasizing that the timing of adding more children is entirely up to her.