As a woman, I spent my whole life questioning why I was expected to have children. I’ve discussed multiple times that I’ve never, ever had that desire personally. I have my step daughter, and had my fiance come to the relationship with children I would have accepted them. But we found ourselves in a fairly unique position for people in our age range dating – in that neither of us were bringing children to the relationship. My step daughter is 22 years old, and while I am close with her, she isn’t a “child” who needs our raising.
My hysterectomy in December was a gift, truly. I had a gnarly recovery (I still have dissolving stitches coming out of my scars, little by little), and was truly unprepared for the 6+ weeks after the surgery that left me feeling useless. But I am on the upswing now, the worst far behind me, I am now starting to enjoy the freedom from being sick with my period non-stop. I have rejoiced in throwing away period underwear. I have delighted in getting rid of tampons I find in the bottoms of old purses. I have been thrilled with the ease it has granted my sex life, and I know my fiance appreciates that it doesn’t look like Dexter has been in our bedroom after we get it on.
And I’ve been wedding planning. Well, planning is a big word. The wedding is planned, as there’s not much to be done. But I booked our photographer, and have already been looking forward to the photos of us with our favorite humans as we start the next part of our life together. I am downright giddy thinking of the beautiful album I will have in our home, for me to flip through whenever I wish, and having all those memories and faces right there in my hands.
We have considered and reconsidered several options for our honeymoon, we are going to wait and see what we can afford when it’s all said and done. We’re looking at Mexico again, Jeju Island again, even Burma is on our short-list of places to go. I know I will do another album of our honeymoon, I made one of our Korea trip that I keep on our coffee table – I love it.
And I got to thinking, the only person we have to pass things down to is my step daughter. If we live another 50 years, I will be pushing 86 years old, and she’ll be 72. Seriously. She will also be old when I am old. I am building an amazing life with an incredible man, and I could not be happier about it. I love our life. I love our plans, I love the unplanned moments, the laughs, the ease. But I think I finally understand the need some people have to pass things on, to have children.
I think I see why people have children, it’s that idea of immortality. When my fiance and I die, we will not be leaving a tangible legacy. Sure, we’ll have the work we did in the world, and I will have my step daughter and likely grandkids from her, but there will be a time, not too long after we die, when everyone we knew and loved is also gone. And that’s both part of life and quite sad.
We truly are lucky in our lives, and yet we will miss that chapter, the passing down. I’m still content with not having kids, it wasn’t in the cards for us, I have not an ounce of maternal instinct or desire. But I am also strangely nostalgic for the loss of that opportunity, to leave something more behind.
I wonder how many people have kids not out of that deep longing that so many women I know have, but out of that fear of not leaving enough behind. I wonder how many people realize when they die, they take all their best memories, jokes, and experiences to the grave, unless they have someone to pass them on to. It’s been curiously enlightening, to think of it this way, to know that my wedding album, which I cannot wait for, is destined for a scrap heap.
Someday our wedding album will be in a thrift store, no one will know anyone in the photographs. They’ll wonder who this crazy woman with the tattoos in the pink dress was, and why was she riding her husband like a horse in that photo? Who are those people they’re embracing? I know I certainly romanticize old photos – and I guess it’s just shocking to realize someday I’ll be just old photos.
