To selfish to have children?

There is something so fundamental about the wish to reproduce, something so raw, so basic to a human being that’s it is almost like it is a given that everyone should want to do just that. Yet, there are a whole lot of people who doesn’t due to various causes. Some simply can’t, some doesn’t have the time right now, and some plainly just don’t want to be a parent. And I am all fine with that. What I’m not fine with is the society’s expectations to when one should want to reproduce, and most of all people who tell you all their thoughts they may have on the subject.

I’m at the age where at least my society thinks I should have reproduced a long time ago. I have everything one can need to start a family. I have a stable relationship, a big house, education, we both have safe jobs – god damn it, we even have two station wagons and a dog.  And because of this it seems everybody now has a right to ask me if I’m pregnant every time I so much as mentions being sick, tired or god forbid, has clothes on that makes me look pregnant. I’m so sick of telling people I’m not pregnant – just fat. I find it so offending, the way my life and my body supposedly is everyone’s property when they think I’m pregnant. And just to make it very clear, I’m not the cuddly kind you hug whenever you want to, and my body language is not that difficult to read. I don’t even like people touching me without me knowing them, and not even then is it ok for everyone.

Reading this, I realize I just described myself as an old dog with sore tail that will snap at you if you come to close. Witch to be fair, isn’t so far from the truth.

What all those people who pet my belly and asks me what I wish for (for Christmas then maybe?), doesn’t know – is that we for a fact have been trying to get pregnant for almost 2 years. But I can’t tell them that, I can’t take the pity even though it’s well meant.

And to be perfectly honest, if we had gotten pregnant on the first try, we would probably have a huge problem on our hands, because that would have meant utter mental chaos for me.  I can’t think of anything scarier then being responsible for another human being. I mean, sure the dog turned out fine, but at kid can tell on you if you fuck up. And looking at how dark and twisted I turned out to be, there is a very real possibility that I can pass some of my not so nice quirkiness on. And it’s not just that. I am actually scared of the thought of having a human being on the inside of me like an alien, twirling and spinning, forcing me to pass the control of my body over to somebody else. The control freak aspect of it is maybe the most terrifying. Having to trust seemingly random people who have or have not gone to well renowned schools and had good practice since that. Or god forbid having to rely on my hubby who has not a nursing bone in his body (if it’s in there it’s well hidden).

And there is another thing. A thing so dark and twisted to me, that it has taken me moths to be able to realize it completely or even say it out loud.

 I’m deathly scared of being jealous and/or bitter towards my own children’s accomplishments.   

I am actually so competitive that I can visualize my self being jealous of my own child. Especially if they turn out to being able to accomplish all the goals that I only half made in my life.  It’s a great sorrow for me that I’m now too old to become the world champion or anything like that, in any sport. I beat myself up every time I think about the chance I could have had, if I had stayed persistent true my youth in my sport. I was one of the best in my age group, now I am simply mediocre. And boy, do I hate being mediocre. I always stride towards being the best in what I do when I’m serious about something. I don’t do things halfway. It’s what makes me so damn good at what I do for a living.   But it’s also a curse. I have so much I want to accomplish in my life, so much I want to do, and chance is that it will never happen.  There is a lot I’m willing to let go, but the four major dreams I simply can’t let go.

So since this is a sole wrenching, I’m going to put them down, every single major dream I still have, and explain if not for anybody else but myself, what’s holding me back.

Writing and performing my own songs

-          My anxiety of public humiliation holds me back from even trying to sing in public. I can sing for children, I can sing at parties, I can sing in car’s, but I can’t seem to  find enough courage to sing in front of an audience who is going to critique me. My worst fears would be someone telling me I’m tone-deaf, even though I know that’s not the reality.

I have been told I have a decent singing voice, and I know I am musical. So maybe one day, with a band, on a stage, you’ll see me. Because it’s not so scary in a group, more people to take the blame.

Oh and I have to learn to play the guitar properly first, somehow trumpet doesn’t mix with vocals.

Acting

-          Here also the public humiliation thing is the main factor. That and making myself so vulnerable. It has taken years to build these walls of protection so solid and trustworthy, acting would mean taking them down all at once.  But I honestly think it would be a great relief to do so. If I knew I was good. If I knew I wasn’t going to fall flat on my face, if, if, if.

Moving abroad to England or USA

-          I’m not actually sure if I really want this, or if it’s a form of run and hide tactic of my mind. Because I some days love my life here, but other days I crave the impulses the world can offer. But in order to do so, we would have to root up our entire life here, and I don’t really want to do that either. I couldn’t ask my hubby to do that for me to follow some diffuse dream.

Publishing a book

-          This is the only given that I am going to accomplice in my life. Books are my passion; I have loved them since I was a child. And frankly I don’t read them – I devour them. I read so fast that I am thinking about adding another language to my skills, to slow me down, just to make the books last longer.  And I have so many books in me. So many observations of the world and personas that need to be put down on paper.

But there is one question I can’t shake; does this make me so selfish that I should not have any children?

I do want children. I love seeing my hubby with kids. And I’m good with them. But putting everything in my life on hold, and for how long? Can I ever do anything just for again without the mommy mafia accusing me of being a bad mom? If I want to follow my dreams, can I do so? Does it make me a bad mommy to leave the children behind with their daddy? If I was a guy, I feel like these questions wouldn’t even matter.  

And I’m so scared having a child will change everything between me and my hubby to the extent that we will part. He is a fragile soul, and so am I. Will there be enough room for two fragile souls with needs and a child or two? I don’t want children if it means losing him. He does also want children, but I think he is as scared as me, scared of it driving us apart. We are such a good match, teammates and buddy’s. And if the worst of everything should happen, and we split up, is it legit for me to want him to have main custody?

As I read true this, I realize I have reflected upon every possible outcome should we be blessed with a kid, and we are not even close…….. sometimes I wish I was just a little dumber…..

Fuck me like a man

Sex is the most necessary thing in a relationship, and the thing it’s the most controversy about. And no doubt the thing that causes most of the fights in relationships. If it’s good, everything else tends to be good. But if it’s bad, everything else falls apart.

So why is it so hard to talk about?

Why is it that I can’t just tell my man what I really want? Especially when you consider the fact that I can easily tell my girlfriends, and I sort of expect it’s the same for the guys.

But why? Why am I embarrassed about my own sexuality? Is it society that has hammered its norms about what a woman is supposed to want into my head unknowingly?

Or is it myself? Have I lulled myself into a belief that if I tell my better half what I wan’t , he will leave me?   Have I fooled myself so well that I actually think my needs are so unique that he should make a run for it? Am I  really that shallow that I think I’m so special?

It’s a lot of unanswered questions, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to answer them all. But I do think I’m leaning towards the last one. I’m a bit scared he’ll leave me, or at least mock me.

Reading this you must think I have a really obscure fetish that never should see the light of day. That even in these days of Fifty shades of Gray and Gideon Cross, I have a secret so dark and so twisted you wouldn’t be able to guess it even if you tried for years. Sadly no, I don’t.

What I want is simply the same as most people desire, whether they are in a relationship or not. It’s as simple and as hard as desire. I want steaming hot desire, passion and lust. I want someone, preferably him to want me so bad that he can’t control himself. I want him to push me into walls, pin me with his body and pant whit desire. I want someone to look at me with hunger in their eyes. I want the tension that is between two people playing the game, before the first kiss. I want desperation, and primal needs. Basically I want him to fuck me like a man – or at least want to do just that.  No mercy, no limits, no prisoners.  

And let’s be honest. Doesn’t everybody what that? Isn’t that why the mommy porn books sell so well? It feeds into the fantasy that passionate sex is always an option. And believe me, something happens to the passion in a long time relationship.  It goes to sleep, only to occasionally wake up and make at least me remember what it was like in the beginning. And that really and truly sucks.  So we need an out – a little pick me up to remind us that were not all boring inside.

For a person like me with an overly active imagination, I tend to see to this “problem” by indulging myself in these mommy porn books. Reading them over and over again, secretly wishing the hubby would read them too and maybe take a few pointers with him along the way. Not that he is bad, but it can always be better.

 But why is it that I am not able to just tell him that, that I want him to stop being so considerate every time and just do what he really wants every once in a while. Maybe it’s the thought and possibility of him not wanting to do just that, or that he simply doesn’t feel the same way.  It’s a bit scary to put yourself out there like that, to open yourself up, exposed – raw. It’s actually easier to do it with someone you aren’t in a relationship with, maybe because their opinion stops mattering the moment you walk out the door. If they laugh at you, all you have to do is throw something at them and leave. With your partner, you can’t do that, not without consequences at least. That’s why it’s so scary to be with someone, you lay your heart on the line, expose the darkest parts of your personality and all you can do is hope that you don’t completely scare him or her away.