Archive for August, 2011

I Apologize If I Said That Wrong

Though statistically impossible, it seems like everyone I know is pregnant. It could be more of a function of age or where most of us are in our lives, but there certainly are a lot of people I know who are pregnant or expecting to be soon or just had a child. And while maybe it would have been weird 100 years ago, 30 just kind of seems like the age where that happens these days. After all, we’re all getting married older as we put more time into…well, what are we putting more time into? Find ourselves, establishing our careers, whatever the hell anyone is calling any of that. I, for one, shouldn’t complain; I found myself. But I do have some strange thoughts these days.

I have effectively removed myself from the gene pool. There is no way (at least medically speaking at this time) that some gets 50% of my awesomeness and 50% of someone else’s because at this point I lack any means of passing any genetic material on. This is, of course, something that I was full cognizant of before transitioning. I made a decision 4 years ago that had a lot of ramifications and this was one of the bigger ones. Because no matter what we say, no matter how much we swear we’ll never be good parents or we never want to have kids or we’ll never be ready, most of us manage to find ourselves having children at some point. Propagation of the species and all that. Frankly, if I’d been deeply concerned, I could have donated sperm somewhere or had it frozen or in some other way preserved it, but it didn’t seem like a big deal at the time. Don’t get me wrong, it still isn’t. There are still plenty of ways to have children in your life without doing it the good old fashioned way, thanks to too many people who do it the good old fashioned way and are not ready what comes with it.

You can hear the but hanging there, can’t you? Maybe this is just where I’m at in life. My friends have reached a point where they are all having kids because that’s the point in life they are at. They are married; they have made in-roads in terms of their career goals and have settled to some degree. I have not. That doesn’t mean that I can’t contribute to a conversation about baby names or have fun listening to the foibles of parenthood. I most certainly enjoy that. I am happy for my friends. It’s a joyous time in their lives, and if I can’t figure out how to separate out my own feelings, well fuck, how did I make it this far anyway? Not that my feelings are irrelevant. It’s just important sometimes to realize the flip side of that is 6 day backpacking trips and staying out until 12:30 am on Wednesday nights at shows. Maybe it’s not an exact corollary, but if I can’t enjoy the freedom that my lifestyle accords me, then why am I living this lifestyle? I get and appreciate that.

It’s still weird to navigate, though. I knew I’d never be pregnant. I never can be, and that happened a long time ago back when my mom was pregnant. Maybe I wouldn’t feel weird about it if I hadn’t already transitioned. Living as a woman is great, don’t get me wrong, but it’s still full of bittersweet moments. But maybe I’m just confusing individual experience with life as a whole for all of us. And this isn’t about what I know. I’m a smart, analytical person who can know a lot of things. This has a lot more to do with how I feel. And I feel a little out of step. Still, there’s no sense in getting caught up in something that I have no control over. Because in this case, I really do have no control over it. But it is a reminder that in some very big ways, I will never have some of the major shared experiences that help define womanhood. That’s okay, I’m busy working on my own definition. And it doesn’t mean that I won’t have many the shared experiences that define motherhood. And there are certainly women out there that have to go through this kind of experience without transitioning like I did. Of course, there’s a difference between getting caught up in a feeling and honestly exploring it. This, this is hopefully more of the latter. I’m trying to honestly appraise where I am at. And where am I at? A good place where I’m not even ready for kids anyway, genetically or otherwise. I’m not even sure if I want kids, which is what makes some of these feelings so strange. Then again, maybe some of these feelings indicate I do. In due time, in due time.

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