It really is weird to think I'll actually be a mom by the end of the year. Hell, by the end of the summer! For years I thought I'd be one to adopt or just not have any kids at all. I took the singular stance that there were already enough people in the world, why add to it when there are so many children available for adoption into loving arms. In fact, I still maintain a healthy respect for adoption and for those who choose not to have kids. I could actually still see myself adopting at some point, but that's a conversation with Sunshine for another day.

So, what changed? I really don't know. I think it was the Fall of 2007 or 2008 when it hit me: I suddenly realized that I wanted kids. Now, mind you, it wasn't even necessarily about having my own biological kids at that time, but rather, simply, a family of my own. Children to raise. A baby.... But my husband at the time most definitely did not want kids--"Uhhhh, how about I just get you a monkey?"-- so any method of acquiring a baby beyond deceit and coercion on my part was pretty much out of the question. Well, actually, he did say eventually that he'd have kids with me if I really wanted them. I did, but what I was coming to realize was that I absolutely, for so very many reasons, starting with and including the fact that he had no actual desire to be a father, did not want them with him. Poof. Eyes opened, and I saw my marriage for what it was: painfully mismatched, lonely, and unhappy. Fast-forward through failed attempts to find a way to possibly make it work: we got divorced in 2009.

Back in the dating world, my expectations and goals were different. In addition to wanting someone with whom I could share much more than just space in a house, I wanted someone who wanted a family, however we made it happen-- be it biological, adoption, or feral child wriggling through the dog door. In my more irrational moments, I'd hope for an accident, feeling like there was no other choice for me. I'd felt like I'd never find the right partner who wanted to share a life with me, and my ovaries and uterus were just going to cough, sputter, shrivel up, and drop right out of my body, withered, pathetic, and unused. And here we meet my biological clock. That's when, in this state of mind I somehow decided to date a younger man. I had a house of my own, a pretty settled life, and was well on my way to entering my new career. He had a zillion roommates, unpaid tickets, and his car was getting repossessed. I was also thinking two year time frame to have kids. He was thinking ten. Let's see... I live in a world where most of my friends are kind of struggling on two incomes, not to mention they have already started AND FINISHED having their children; and now I'm expected to wait ANOTHER ten years for him to get his shit together so we can have our first kid when I'm FORTY?? And he wanted four of them. Hmmmmm.... community, partnership, responsible adult notions, and support concerns aside, starting at 40 obviously posed a massive problem. You see, men don't have to worry about the same kind of expiration dates women do-- psychological, social, or biological. Somehow, that point eluded him (as I think it either eludes or freaks out many free-spirited men who don't have to worry about such constraints) and also illuminated all the other ways we weren't right for one another. I'm happy to say he's still in my life as a peripheral friend, as are other mismatched exes who still make for good friends, and I hope he finds himself ready, with the right person, to have his four someday.

What the hell? Why am I writing my post divorce dating history. There's been plenty of drama and my fair share of trauma, but really it's just a series of misses, obviously, just like anyone else's dating history before they find a good match. So, to wrap up, for years I didn't want kids; then I really really did; then major trauma struck and I wasn't so sure anymore-- about anything at all in my life, really-- as I couldn't see the sun for a while. Now, the sun is shining brightly; the trauma has been relegated to the shadows where I ignore it while it pitifully scratches and whines for periodic attention. Life is good. No. Life is great. Critter is growing and set to make his or her grand debut in August, and so Sunshine and I are cultivating all kinds of life and family together.