This article reminded me of something I had written months ago and plum forgot to post. I think today is an appropriate day to post it.
(This was a random Facebook Newsfeed item. I am sorry to say that I did not search to save a location for it. If this is yours and you don’t mind my using it? A) Thank you! B) Send me your information and I would be thrilled to link back!)
So this appeared on my Facebook news feed a little while back.
I don’t have children. I may never have children.* You know what? That’s o(fucking)kay.
I was once advised, after extolling my desire not to spawn (five-ish years ago), that my life would not be complete without having a child of my own.
Here’s my incredibly strong belief: my life would not be any better, or any worse with children of my own in it. My life would be different. Not better. Not worse. Different.
I know the simple comfort of holding hands with the man I want to spend the rest of my life with. I know the pain of saying goodbye to someone I love. I know the awesome joy of watching a puppy discover a butterfly.
I have felt a swarm of butterflies take wing in my stomach when my husband comes home after a weekend away. I have hugged a friend who has just brought a miracle into the world. I have cried in sympathy of personal tragedy.
I fucking know love.
I understand where this quote is coming from and I can appreciate it, but this shit needs to tone down in a big way.
*Despite this pregnancy, I still do not have children. Despite estimated Doomsday being today I am realist enough to understand that I may still not have children. (I tend not to count chickens before they’ve hatched.)