During this time of uncertainty and sadness, I have some good news to share—I received an acceptance from a top choice journal for my poem “Inside the Den.”
“You’ve gotta tell him to shit or get off the pot. What is he waiting for?!”
or now, the occasional “Your niece is so adorable! When is it your turn?”
Stop asking me.
While your questions or comments about my life and these future events may seem completely harmless, consider what I’m about to tell you. Perhaps you meant it sincerely, or were just joking around. Maybe you were genuinely curious, or were making polite conversation. Regardless of your intention, rethink it.
1. It feeds into social pressures on females. It also reinforces the idea that marriage and childbirth are not only assumed next or future steps, but almost expected. As a result, we can be reluctant to speak of our different opinion, or choose a separate path than the one that you’re laying out for us. Furthermore, there’s enough pressure there already. I remember feeling the weight these types of questions carried. It started with, “What are you going to do after graduation/moving/etc.?” It felt as though my life was defined by this answer. Yes, it’s good to have a plan, and some people need these pushes as motivational benchmarks to figure out where they are at and move forward. But don’t you think I already have these things on my mind constantly? Might you be unintentionally pushing this individual toward something they weren’t ready for, but are now overthinking and rushing into? Whether it be a career, marriage, etc. Life changes take time. Everyone goes at their own speed. And, unless you had it all figured out by your twenties, don’t expect them to.
2. Is it really and truly your business? How does this affect your daily life? I certainly don’t mind telling my close friends and family, but we all know that one person that wants to know just because. AKA a shady individual that does not have your best intentions at heart, only the latest gossip. You must have a dull life if you feed off knowing what’s going on in mine. (Seriously, I wish I had that kind of time to kill.)
3. If the individual is single: asking them when they are going to get a boyfriend/get married is like asking, “What is wrong with you that you don’t already have a boyfriend?” First of all, thanks for the unwanted pity. Second, you are basically implying that they are not good enough on their own. Having a partner will not make someone complete. Believe it or not, some women have other dreams than just to be someone’s wife. There is nothing wrong with marriage being a major goal, but don’t assume that it is the only thing on every woman’s to-do list. Let’s set women’s rights back even further, shall we? We are still learning to love and know ourselves. That should always come first.
4. If the individual is in a relationship: Again, a ring on their finger is not going to make someone complete or “better.” Also, don’t assume they haven’t talked about it. You should have faith that the indivudual and their significant other have discussed the future of their relationship and will take that step when they are both ready, either financially, emotionally, or both. Even if they are already there, some couples are truly at peace with where they are and do not feel the need to slap that label on it just because “we’ve been together for ____ years, so it’s just time to take the next step.” Personally, I want my future husband to ask me that question because and only because he wants to marry me more than anything in this damn world, NOT because it’s “the next step.” I have seen so many of my own friends push their significant others toward engagement and it makes me cringe. Yeah, a diamond ring is pretty. But marriage is about SO much more than that. Parents, friends: I know you’re excited and anxious for them. But wouldn’t you rather them communicate about this big decision and take it at their own pace rather than wind up divorced? Also people- trust me, you will know when they get engaged because chances are if you’re related or close friends, you’ll be invited to the wedding. And if not, I’m sure like 90% of the population, it will be on Facebook for you to creep on.
5. You are being insensitive. Maybe they cannot physically have children. Maybe they are dealing with the loss of a baby that you never even knew about. Maybe *gasp* they do not want children.
The definition of a woman is many things. Specifically, Merriam-Webster defines the word as:
Do you see the word “mother” anywhere in there? No.
I have the utmost respect for mothers. They are some of the strongest females I know. My own mother is one of my best friends. And if your one and only dream is to be a mother, I think that’s wonderful! There is nothing wrong with that. However, I have never said to any of these women, “Why would you want to be a mother?!”
Yet, it is perfectly normal for me to hear a gasp of surprise or the words “Why don’t you want kids?!” in a disapproving tone when the topic arises and I state that I don’t. Let me make it clear: Not wanting children does NOT make me, or any other female, less of a woman.
*Note: I am not slamming motherhood, or those women who are/want to be mothers. However, I am slamming those who feel the need to tell people it is their duty as a woman to have children.
So again: NOT WANTING CHILDREN DOES NOT MAKE ME, OR ANY OTHER FEMALE, LESS OF A WOMAN.
And I am sick of brushing these remarks off and allowing them to make me feel this way. It is perfectly fine for a man to not want kids, but not for a woman? In this day and age, more women than ever before are leaning away from starting families and further into their careers. Yet, there is still backlash. Many of us still don’t feel comfortable talking about it because of the reactions we get. No, I am not a heartless human. Yes, I have a soul. No, I don’t hate children. And furthermore, let’s just put this to rest.
1. “I didn’t want kids either when I was your age.” I am about to be 26. Yes, I get that at sixteen I didn’t want them, but *newsflash* ten years later, here we are, and I still don’t. This decision can and does change with some women as they age, however, please learn to separate the idea that the more birthdays you have, the more likely you are to yearn for offspring. Furthermore, “Once you find someone you love, you’ll want to create a family with them.” Yes, that does happen! But I have found that person, and my ovaries are still just fine, thank you.
2. “You’ll get out of the party phase, and see that it can be fun.” I can say from personal experience that I do not go bar-hopping every weekend, and it’s been a couple years since I have. My life is currently filled with a full-time job, taking writing classes, working on a future chapbook, and training for a full marathon, all while maintaining friendships, a serious relationship, and fulfilling my passion for traveling. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’m not partying, and I still don’t want kids.
3. “Your life will be so dull without kids.” I’ll just leave this here:
4. “The greatest joy in life is being a mother.” …for you. Does everyone like mushrooms on their pizza? No. Stop acting like every freaking female has the same itinerary as you. I know that I cannot actually comprehend the joys of motherhood since I am not a mother, but I do not for one minute doubt that it is an incredible and amazing journey. However, if I am not entirely sure that journey is right for me, perhaps you should hold your tongue before you tell me what would be the greatest joy in my life.
5. “You’ll change your mind.” You know what, maybe I will. But MAYBE I won’t. And what I can’t fathom (for the life of me!) is why others are so offended by the latter. People do not need to “grow” out of this feeling. We do not need to change our minds to fit a certain social agenda. This is the number one response I hear from people, and sometimes I just want to scream. “Okay,” would be a good response when I tell you I don’t want kids. Or, “Whatever you want is what you should do.” We say the phrase, “To each their own,” to nearly everything- why not this?
6. “Your biological clock is ticking…won’t you be lonely?” Oh, is it? Didn’t know I had one. Guess I better book that trip to Southeast Asia. Guess I better train for my next marathon. Guess I better write that book before my mind goes, too. Guess I better do all the other things in the world that I want to do that don’t include reproducing. For the record, you are never too young or too old to accomplish what you want. And if I really am feeling lonely, I will get a cat. Or a dog. Or a pet dolphin, whatever. I will visit my friends. I will spend time with my family and their children. I will go shopping with my niece. I will take care of my parents. I will go on dates with my husband. I will strengthen those relationships and give more time and attention to those I do have. I have never felt the urge to have a child or give birth. Also, if I can’t hold my iPhone for 5 minutes without dropping it, chances are I probably don’t want to hold your baby. Some people just don’t have that motherly instinct, and there is nothing wrong with that.
7. “That’s what a woman’s purpose on Earth is.” or “It’s how God intended it.” I honestly have to unclench my fists to type this. Just because I have all the necessary parts to give birth to a child does not mean that it is my sole purpose in life. I AM NOT A BABY FACTORY. While I may not know my complete purpose on this Earth, I do know that touching the lives of others, making a difference, and being happy can be achieved by a wide variety of different things that do not include bearing a child. Maybe my purpose is to be a writer, or a teacher, or a student, or a friend/daughter/sister/aunt/lover/wife. I do believe in God. But I also believe he made us all unique for a reason. Every individual has their own talents, desires, and goals. If it is truly a sin in the eyes of the Lord to not have children, then I suppose I am ready to risk that.
Get the idea out of your head that not having children is a selfish decision. Although my reproduction organs seem to be in perfectly fine condition, there are others who are not in the same boat. Sometimes it’s easier for them to say, “Kids just aren’t for us.” Those who have had miscarriages, or lost a child, may not want to bring the pain of that loss back to the surface. Maybe they are still struggling with the recent news that they cannot have children. Consider that before you jump to conclusions. Furthermore, being responsible is not being selfish. I firmly believe that we should let those who want to be mothers, be mothers. Bringing a child into this world when you do not want to be a parent can cause a plethora of problems, including lack of proper care for the child. It is much better to know you do not want children and not have them, than to not be sure and bring a child into that situation. “Is it because you don’t want stretch marks?” Well, I’m not jumping at the bit to get them, but no. Stretch marks would be the least of my concerns. Perhaps my career is taking off and I want to focus on that, or I am always on the go. My boyfriend is in the military, as my brother is, and although my brother and his wife have a baby and are wonderful parents, I am not the same woman as my sister-in-law. She was meant to be a mother, and has always wanted to be one. I love that about her, but I do not share this feeling with her. Plus, being a military S.O. can be hard enough, I do not want to be a military mom and feel like I am raising the child completely on my own. And yes, it’s true- I do like my independence and freedom, but there are more reasons than just that. I can also go into financial concerns, as affording rent and repaying student loans are their own beasts (even without adding the expenses of a child) but I won’t go there. Now, don’t get me wrong. I understand that despite these issues, it can be done. Schedules can be managed, and you can make it work even when the money is tight. I can go into the problems our country is facing and how I am reluctant to bring up a child into a world that terrifies me, but again, I won’t go there. I can respond to your claims that I am just being selfish, and my generation is lazy, self-centered, greedy, etc. But I won’t go there, either.
Because bottom line, I don’t think I should have to ever explain myself on this topic.
As long as you are not causing harm to others, be whoever and whatever you want. And don’t let anyone make you feel bad about it.
“Well, you’ll regret it someday.” Maybe you’re right. But I’d rather take my chances than regret giving birth to a kid I don’t want just because everyone else thought it was a good idea for me.
Exactly two weeks ago, as many of you know, I went to the hospital to get a pacemaker. It came as a shock to my 25 year old/heart healthy/marathon training self and many others.
I arrived at 9:30 a.m Friday, March 18th. A million things were running through my exhausted mind. I hadn’t eaten anything for over 12 hours, so I was already hangry. Immediately they took me back to prep me, although my surgery wasn’t scheduled until 12:30 p.m. I changed into my gown and clutched the gaping back to cover my bare ass, as not to give a show to everyone else in the room.
A urine sample, IV insertion, and EKG test later, after my vitals were checked and paperwork signed, I waited in my corner hospital bed with my mom and boyfriend until they came for me. At this point I just wanted to get it over with.
And then, it was time. I ignored the way my voice cracked when I said, “I love you,” to mom as they wheeled me out of the room and down the hall. I could not look at my mother. I knew she was already crying. Instead, I looked at my feet, took a deep breath and recalled many of the messages you guys had sent, along with the comments, words of encouragement, prayers, and well wishes. I was still completely overwhelmed with all the support and love I’d received when I first revealed what’s been going on with my health. I knew everything was going to be fine.
As soon as I shifted onto the operating table, I was already feeling the anesthesia kick in. One of the male nurses said, “Are you a NASCAR fan?” I looked at him like he was drunk. Why was he asking me this now? “Um, not really,” I replied. “Why?”
“Well, you know when the car pulls in to the pit, and there’s a lot of people working really fast? That’s what we are going to do.” Suddenly, there were bodies in scrubs and face masks everywhere, grabbing things, moving around me, and then- blissful sleep.
When I woke up in the recovery room, I instantly knew something wasn’t right. Was it just my body adjusting to this foreign device? I was having spasms on my right side- it felt like being kicked in the stomach. I panicked, of course, because my breaths were coming out weird. The nurse shouted for my doctor, and then there were three middle-aged men around my bed. One of them put his hand on my side to time out the pulses as the other recorded it on a machine. I (unfortunately) remember joking, “It’s because you’re all so handsome, it’s taking my breath away” or something cheesy of the sort. (I was a little out of it, okay?!)
Anyway, they knew exactly what it was: One of the wires from the pacemaker was against a nerve that was pushing into my diaphragm. I would have to go right back in so they could redo it and move the pacemaker over. So, anesthesia took me off to dreamland once more.
After what I’m told was another hour and a half, I came out of surgery again. And I had the dreadful realization that I had to pee. Bad. I called for the nurse, and she brought over a bedpan. What the hell am I supposed to do with that?
“Have you ever used one of these before?” she asked. I shook my head no. This was going to be interesting…
I still don’t really know how I did it, or managed not to spill it on myself or the bed. And then, I heard the best words: “Do you want me to bring your family back?”
Minutes later, my mom and boyfriend were in the room with me. Our reunion was brief, as they had to take me down for x-rays and other testing. “This is like a less fun roller coaster,” I said awkwardly as a nurse wheeled me away on the bed.
I don’t know if it’s then that reality set in, or if it was just the anesthesia wearing off, or a combination of the two, but they put me in a hallway next to two elderly men watching Judge Judy and it was miserable. It felt like I was stuck there for an eternity. Finally, I was all done and brought to a different room for out processing. They were letting me go home! I ate small bites of a turkey sandwich and cried when I saw these two enter the room.
*Side note: About .02 seconds after he took this picture, my boyfriend dropped his cell phone right on top of where the incision was made for my pacemaker. Ouch.
The rest of that night and the weekend basically consisted of me sleeping, throwing up, trying to eat, and not moving. I got very sick Saturday because of the pain medication, so I stopped taking it Sunday and felt less nauseous, but obviously was in more pain. I read poetry, watched movies, and ate Chinese food.
My mom had to help bathe me, as I couldn’t move my left arm or get the site wet. (I was advised not to raise my left arm above my head, make repetitive movements, or lift much for a month after.) How humbling that was… I’m 25, an adult. And here I was, not being able to do this on my own. We had to wash my hair in the kitchen sink. Monday afternoon was my first time leaving the apartment. Mom and I went to a couple stores and had lunch. She left later that evening and we both bawled. It was such a blessing having her there with me.
It’s been two weeks, and all of the gauze and bandages are off. I am going for much longer walks, and I’m pretty much back to normal. I still keep my arm in a sling at times- just because for this next month I know I’m going to forget to not use it in the capacity I am used to.
I still get winded going up a flight of stairs, and I had to sit down in the middle of Wal-Mart while grocery shopping because I thought I was going to pass out, but the incision is healing nicely and I hope to be 100% in no time, and (hopefully) even running again.
Thank you again to everyone who wished me well and kept me in their thoughts. And a word of advice: be really, really nice to your mom and to nurses. You can’t imagine what they’ve done for you or what they may have to help you do in the future.
Oh, and find yourself a guy that will help blow dry your hair and put it in a ponytail even if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s doing. You won’t know that kind of love until you’re shown it.
As I sit here, I am still processing what has transpired over the past couple weeks… I debated sharing something so personal this publicly, but it is the easiest way to let my friends & family in and inform them.
As I mentioned in an earlier post here, there were several reasons why my presence on this blog has wavered recently, and the main reason is this:
On a Monday evening in late January, I passed out after getting out of the shower. Fainting was never uncommon for me (as I have passed out maybe once or twice a year since high school), but back then it wasn’t made into a big deal. When it first happened, they took blood work to see if I was anemic, and I wasn’t. I didn’t really follow up, and neither did they. People fainted all the time, right? So, so what? It did not happen enough to interrupt my everyday life, and there was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for what caused it in the first place.
But this Monday night was different. Luckily, this particular time, my boyfriend was there with me and witnessed the episode. (Usually, I am by myself.) He actually caught me before I hit the ground. From that point, he said I went into a seizure, and then stopped breathing. He immediately did CPR and within a couple breaths/pumps I was okay. When I finally came to, I knew where I was (lying on the bathroom floor) and could sit up. We called my mom and told her what happened. The fainting was obviously familiar to me, but to stop breathing? Maybe he was mistaken. Maybe he was scared and just overreacted, I wondered. As I felt a little weak but otherwise fine, I went to bed and into work the next day.
Later on that next afternoon, I went to my doctor for a procedure. I passed out from the pain of the procedure- not much of a big surprise as pain can trigger fainting, but it took me a long time to recover and feel well enough to sit up. I could not do anything for nearly 20 minutes. They would not let me leave to go home alone, so I called a friend, Debra, to drive me home. However, after I told the doctors what happened to me the night before, they thought it best to go straight to the ER.
After taking my vitals, they did an EKG test and a CT scan on my head. Everything came back normal, but they still wanted me to see a cardiologist and follow up with my PCP. So I did that, more EKG tests, and had an echo cardiogram (ultrasound, basically) done on my heart. Again, everything was coming back normal. I was getting frustrated. Maybe nothing was seriously wrong, and we all just overreacted.
As you can imagine, I was in shock. I am 25 years old, with a completely healthy heart. Pacemakers, I thought, were for the elderly and people with severe heart conditions. And then the realizations hit me in waves. I’m in the middle of training for the full marathon on May 1st, so I have to stop running? I was working so hard to accomplish that, and had wanted to cross that finish line so badly… And for travel, can I still go through metal detectors? How will this limit me? I know I’ll have a visible scar spreading across my chest someday in my wedding dress. The thought of something being planted inside my body to keep me alive freaked me out, and as I am writing this I am still scared, but I’ve decided I am ready to take it on. My health is not something I am willing to gamble with. Pacemakers have been around for many years, and in my condition, the potential benefits outweigh the risks. My doctors are incredible, and my family & friends have been wonderful.
So, after a second opinion and a lot of thought, I have agreed to get a pacemaker, and will undergo surgery this week.
Since coming back from Minneapolis, reality has begun to set in. I can no longer push this to the back of my mind, but I still have tried my best. Last night, I attended PostSecret: The Show in Cleveland. (You can learn more about PostSecret here.) It is something that has always been close to my heart ever since I discovered it. We made a last minute decision to go, despite how tired we’d be (especially thanks to Daylight Saving Time) and how big of a week I had to prepare for. Since I will be cooped up in my apartment recovering, I want to do as much as I can before the surgery.
In the bathroom at the theater, there were post-it notes decorating the walls and lining the mirrors and stalls, exposing secrets of strangers.
Some were funny, some haunting, some sad. What I love about this is that it is okay to be vulnerable- we all are. And yet, we are all in this together.
You never know what someone is going through. You also don’t realize sometimes how blessed you are. I am nervous for Friday, and that’s okay. I’m allowed to be. And while I could easily sit here and feel sorry for myself that this is happening to me and that I can’t run the race I’ve been training for, I’m lucky to have run at all, and to have the chance to keep going.
In closing, while I don’t know how a pacemaker may or may not change my life, I know if it is what I need to do, then I have to get it, even if it seems unfathomable at 25.
My surgery is scheduled for this Friday, March 18th. Four days from today. It’s simple and I’m sure to be successful, but I’d appreciate your prayers nevertheless. They’ll keep me overnight, and I’ll be released the next day if all is well. Some people have asked, and yes, of course- I’m dreading it. I don’t do well with hospitals, IV’s, any of that. There’s no guarantee that this will even work, and I have to be aware of that fact. My amazing mama is coming down to stay with me for a couple days, as I’ll be out of work for some time. I will do my best to give an update when I’m feeling better, but this is probably the last I will write for a while.
Before signing off, I want to give a tremendous thank you to both my boyfriend and especially my wonderful parents, who take such great care of me and help me always. I love you more than you’ll ever know.
I’ll see you guys soon.
P.S. Go fall in love with some words today.
I’m always a day late and a dollar short.
Just two weeks after turning 25, I am finally forging a path back to my childhood dream. With this blog, I hope to not only retrace my footsteps over five months of traveling in Europe, but also rediscover my voice as a writer.
It’s funny how thirteen-year-old me knew best all along, huh?
Since then, I’ve transferred colleges, broken up with boyfriends, had surgeries, gained a sister and a niece, crashed my car, built friendships that failed, found a soulmate, ate the weirdest sea creatures imaginable, drank absinthe, swam topless in the Mediterranean, cried in castles, jumped from mountains, and the whole time I drifted in and out of my first love- writing.
I received my B.A. in English from Westminster College in 2012 and moved to Pittsburgh, PA. After working for a year in a job that I increasingly became more unhappy at, I had my quarter-life crisis early and quit my job to travel. Now, two years later, From This Side of the Sun is the compilation of months and months of poetry, journal entries, pictures, and word vomit that expels every emotion I’ve ever felt.
Head over to my about me page so I can introduce myself further, or (for those who know me) refresh your memory on where I’ve been.
Can’t wait to catch up with you all!