That Girl from Derwent dwells on the value of religion this Christmas.
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That Girl From Derwent reckons if you're going to be offensive, you should find a better reason.
That Girl from Derwent considers why it is that some words have wider implications than others.
It has taken me a ridiculous amount of time to get round to writing this blog. I kept putting it off and making excuses, but now I’m here and I’m ready to talk. I’m usually pretty flippant about this. Either that or I ignore it and pretend everything is okay. But it’s not, not really. You see, I might not be able to have kids.
It’s rather unfortunate then, that ever since I was a little girl I have not wanted anything else other than to have a family when I grow up. Yes, a high-paying occupation would be nice, but I’d give it up to be a housewife and look after my children.
And then, seven or eight years ago, my dreams and illusions were shaken to their core when my doctor informed me that, yes, there isn’t anything that wrong with you... yet. I had a fairly standard childhood, fairly ordinary teenage years, but for some medical reason that I won’t go into here, it is highly possible that my chances to have children died along with my dream to be a power ranger (the pink one, if you must know).
It’s the uncertainty that is the worst thing. Yes, I may be able to have children, but it’s more likely that I won’t – I won’t know until I try – but I can only imagine how painful it will be to try and try, only to be disappointed time and time again.
And then there’s the fact that as I get older, my chances, limited anyway, will decrease dramatically. Yes, this happens to all women, but most could still have a kid at forty-five if they tried. According to the experts, I’ll be lucky to conceive, carry and give birth after twenty-five.
This affects more than you might think. It affects your attitudes toward other people, especially relationships, but it also changes the way you think about your future and the way you live your day-to-day life. Every future life decision has to be factored around the fact that I want children, and for the best chance of that I will have to want them soon. Going for a career? Going for a second degree? You’ve just got to think about those pesky kids of yours.
In college I found it difficult to engage in the love affairs my peers were embracing. I was always aware that as I got older, at some point in a relationship I’d have to broach the, “I have to tell you something” conversation that nobody likes to have at that age. After all, what young lover wants to know that, actually, you might be looking to have kids in your early twenties? That’s a moodkiller if ever I heard one. I was constantly aware that I couldn’t be as carefree as my friends and – horribly enough – however subconsciously I did it, I found myself analysing every boy I fancied. Would they make a good father? How about him?
As you can expect, this did not make for successful teenage dating.
So there are alternatives. I could adopt. I could freeze eggs. But in my head adoption isn’t the same; I can’t help how I feel about that. And freezing eggs will only work if my eggs are functional to start with. I could – but if I can have children naturally I want to. I still cling onto that dream of having my family, and until that dream is extinguished completely I will hold onto it tighter than ever.
So, the thing I fear the most? Getting to twenty-seven or eight and realising that it’s too late. Knowing a dream is gone forever; that’s going to be something hard to face up to. I’ll try not to live in its shadow just yet. After all, I’ve got a few years yet before I spring fatherhood on my boyfriend, right?
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