"Oh my god, my ovaries are exploding right now," exclaims a twenty-nine-year-old party guest at a friend's son's first birthday party upon being surrounded by increasingly cuter and cuter babies. Boy babies, girl babies, bald babies, hairy babies, quiet babies, crying babies. At that very moment, however, I was engrossed in watching the sole canine (a very cuddly puppy, appropriately) learn about walking through the grass. "Ovaries?" I asked, stalling for time. It took me a second to realize she was talking about the extreme urge to have a (human) baby, an urge more or less foreign to me at that moment. If anything, I was considering getting a puppy to keep Annie company. But a (human) baby? Wouldn't that just take time and attention away from the real baby, Princess Annie?
This conversation, like many of my conversations in the past year, developed along the same lines. I attempted to commiserate, but secretly felt insincere. Did I even want babies, now or ever? Or was I happier as a doggie mommy? As a child, while other girls were changing fake diapers on fake babies, I single-handedly ran a not-for-profit dog walking and training business after school (read: I walked and trained my neighbors' dogs for free). While I had this inward debate, my girlfriend would complain that though she really wanted a baby, it was impossible to find a man with whom to have said baby. In fact, she wasn't at all sure how she felt about "relationships" at this point in life, but she wanted to have a baby more than anything. It might sound like I am talking about one person, but this conversation has happened numerous times in numerous locations recently. And I'm still unsure what my true contribution to this conversation is. Some recent responses: "It would be great to be pregnant. Then you can be fat but people call you cute." "I would like to eat ice cream and pickles." "As long as it's a girl baby, it's ok." "What would happen to your dog if you had a baby?" "You should definitely secretly go off the pill." You can see that I'm probably not the best person to come to with exploding ovary issues.
On the other side of the coin are those who have taken the leap, who are daring enough to not only commit to one man, but also procreate! The few, the brave, the proud. The Moms. Were their ovaries exploding too? Were they trying for months or was there simply a contraceptive oversight? What do they advise their single friends who want a baby but can't find a guy to fit the bill? Would they look tiredly and say, "Trust me, your ovaries are fine."? Would they beam and say, "You have to be the right person to find the right person'"? Would they hand over their baby and head to the nearest bar? Or would they smile like Mona Lisa and advise, "It's the most incredible experience of your life"? Maybe only fellow childless women receive comments like, "My ovaries are exploding." Maybe Moms only receive compliments and interest, while the rest of us endure the constant obsessive thoughts: Oh my god I'm 31 and not married! My eggs are quickly going extinct. What if I have an alien baby because I'm too old? What if I have triplets? What if I can't have kids? What if Annie gets neglected? What if I don't even want kids? Oh my god I have to decide because I'm already 31!
I'm sure that some day we will look back on our thirties (or twenties) and meditatively say, "You see? It all worked out for the best, babies or no babies, man or no man." Until that time, I will rely on my Mom friends to be an inspiration and my fellow childless friends to inspire blog posts with gems like, "Oh my god, my ovaries are exploding!"
