The world doesn’t deserve to have me as a mother

OK, so sure, I’m only 26, ehhh, 27, and there’s plenty of time to change my mind. But as it is, I truly can’t see myself being anyone’s mother. Let me rephrase: I can. I’d be a damn good mommy. I’m kind of awesome in that way. But I don’t think I want to. First, were I to be a mother, I’d want a husband to help me raise the little thing. I’m not quite sure I want a husband, so without step 1, I can’t really get to step 2. I’m not looking for eternal solitude; I’d enjoy a partner for sexy time, support, conversation, mutual nose picking, and the like, but marriage *scares* *me.*  I am *scared.*  [Shudders] I have this inexplicable, Catholic schooling residual fear of divorce that, coupled with my ever-growing doubt in man’s ability to remain faithful, makes me push the whole idea away. And there’s the important question: Why? Why get married? Why spend thousands of dollars doing something exactly like other people do, stressing yourself out for months, stressing yourself out on this Big Day that goes by so fast, you barely remember to breathe, where you have to promise to love and be faithful to someone FOREVER in front of A BUNCH OF PEOPLE who are there to eat the food you pay for and then complain about it later? No. I’m going to scream.

[pause for screaming]

I want to fall in love, respect, and admire someone, share a life with him, that is ours. That doesn’t need to come with a $10,000 price tag and outside scrutiny.

Back to motherhood. I remember quite well how I reacted in middle and high schools, when the Health teacher forced us to watch a video of a lady in labor. My breathing sped up, as did my heart beat (as they’re both doing now, as I think of it), I got dizzy, tears streamed down my face, and I had to leave the classroom.

[pause for screaming]

It looks painful, terrifying, evil, torturous, anxiety-inducing. Not to mention that your vagina will never look the same. Your body will never be the same, as it wouldn’t were you to get run over by a truck. Birthing a child = truck through vagina. Not good.

Babies sure are cute, and I kinda wanna chew on their fat little knees and cheeks, but that doesn’t mean I want one 24/7. What an amazing job it is, to raise a human being, to teach it all things about the world, to instill in it concepts like honesty, loyalty, humility, empathy, etc. It is a truly admirable, lifelong endeavor-accomplishment thing. But I can be so noble as to help those who are already living. I can make a commitment to making the world a better place. Without a child I have greater individual freedom; I’d like to think that I can accomplish a lot with that, and I rather believe I will.

I look at my parents, two people whom I greatly admire, and I wonder where they’d be and what they’d have accomplished had they chosen to not have children – I’m sure glad they didn’t, but still… I think their life would’ve been incredibly purposeful and exciting in many ways. I want that for myself, I think.

Though, to keep this bit truthful, I should also admit to my fears; my fears of not living up to my expectations of a great parent, of feeling pressured to choose between what I want and what’s best for my kid, and my fear of losing rationality and spending a good chunk of my life being the ‘overprotective’ type. I think all parents – as they are mere human beings – struggle with these thoughts.

If you don't love me, you have no heart

I’m a very loyal type; can’t nobody talk about my mamma, my daddy, my sister, my brother, my boyfriend, my good friends… I sure also get overprotective with my dog. She’s not ‘all there’ emotionally and probably gives off an insane vibe to other dogs, because calm ones tend to start barking and/or pick fights with her after a few seconds of sniffing. She’s uneasy around people and animals, at least until she’s established her status as alpha female. As such, when we go to the park every evening, I probably get as anxious as she does. She goes off leash and likes to circulate a perimeter around other pups; oftentimes they come over to her, give her a sniff, and she growls at them. If they become submissive, they’re immediate friends. If not, a short fight ensues. But sometimes, well adjusted dogs don’t pay her any attention. She walks around, tail wagging, watching from afar, and no one notices.

What the fuck, you stupid dogs? Why don’t you wanna say ‘hi’ to Tori? She wants to play. COME PLAY WITH MY DOG.

I don’t voice it nor do I act on it, but I think to myself; “If I have this ‘why won’t your kids play with my kids’ mentality with my dog, god forbid I ever have real kids of my own.”