last word
FINAL THOUGHTS
I DON’T WANNA GROW UP BY CHRISTINA CALDWELL
Around the holidays, people become increasingly nosy. In an attempt to catch up, distant family members will often ask the “big” questions—those same questions we ask ourselves almost every day but have the opportunity to deal with them personally and in much smaller doses. I often just choose to ignore them. Lucky for me, I have an older brother. The marriage and kids questions are usually directed toward and fielded by him, but now that he has gotten married, that pressure falls on me. At 27, I want all of those things to happen for me... eventually. As life stands right now, getting married and having kids would be something I’d do to please my family, not myself. I’ve just recently gotten to a place where I feel content with my career and who I am, and the last thing I want to do is bring other people in to spoil my self-discovery afterglow with spit up and soiled diapers. I still feel incredibly young. My friends
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VALLEY LIFESTYLES MAGAZINE | JANUARY 2015
and I do deliberately immature things to prolong our big, dumb youth. But when I step back, we’re all approaching 30, which is a scary milestone for anyone. If 30 is the new 20, and people were married at 20 just a few decades ago, we should really get this show on the road. And the pressure is on. Especially as a woman. As crass as it may seem, I feel like I’m quickly expiring. Warnings from others about the birth defects children can face if born to an older mother frighten me, and knowing my mother got endometriosis at 29 and had to have her uterus removed compounds on those fears. Endometriosis is genetic. What if, in a couple years, I’m physically incapable of having a child? How could I disappoint my parents like that, even if it’s out of my control? My parents pine for a grandchild. I don’t often use the word “pine,” but that’s the only way I can really describe the actual kind of hurt they feel with every passing day that a new baby isn’t in their
lives. We joke about it, but it’s true. The way my mom slowly walks past the baby department at Macy’s proves it. She wants to buy frilly little shoes that will never meet the ground and matching mommy/ daughter pajama sets. But my parents also raised me to be an independent young woman, and now that I have that independence, they want me to bring someone into my life that would put my life’s work—true independence—behind me. Having a child now would put a pause on my career, and who knows if I’d ever be able to make up for lost time. These are wholly female issues. Rarely do men have to choose between children and a career. That’s not to say men don’t have their own struggles, but as a young woman, the feeling that I’m about to “expire” constantly looms with every passing work day. So I’m going to just continue to ignore it for a couple more years. I’ll do the rest when I’m ready, if ever. VLM