I’m back to babysitting/ nannying/ child-care-taking or whatever else you want to call it this summer. It’s the same wonderful kids I sat for last summer.
Today the kids asked me what my summer plans had been before I started watching them again, and I told them that I really had just planned on devoting this summer to planning our wedding. At this point they noticed my ring and got super excited. They then decided it was necessary to drill me on everything they could possibly ask me about my life, my fiancée, our wedding, and anything else that connected the two of us.
Then, they asked the one question I wasn’t prepared for, although I have been asked it dozens of times since I first became engaged:
Are you going to have kids?
I haven’t been asked this since I started dealing with some brand spankin’ new health issues this summer, and the question kind of gutted me. I’ve always wanted kids, but as recently as early Spring, before I started dealing with unexpected craziness, I’ve had this weird worry I haven’t been able to shake that I won’t be able to have kids. My latest doctor’s visit brought up the phrase “Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome,” which Google will immediately tell you is thought to be one of the leading causes of female infertility. Being asked if I’m going to have kids out loud for the first time since kids didn’t seem like an easy possibility was a mind-blowing experience, filled with irrational emotions, shaking, and potential tears.
So, today, after initially freezing for what felt like an eternity, with my mind racing all over, I responded as honestly as I could:
Maybe. I don’t know.
All I can say is thank goodness for sitting for a lesbian couple. The 12 year old immediately said, “Oooh! You could adopt babies and kids from all over!!!” The 9 year old, not to be outdone by the older sibling, responded, “ORRRR you could get a sperm donor! We’re from a sperm donor! We don’t know our sperm donor, but that’s how we got here!!” The kids then excitedly discussed how I could get a 7 foot tall giant as a sperm donor so my hypothetical babies could be basketball stars.
As odd as it was to have my “child options” reiterated to me by children, it was also oddly comforting. I don’t know what the future holds, or how I’ll get to mom-status, but I do know that I’ll get there one day, either through adoption or even potentially a 7 foot giant sperm donor. For now, I just need to adapt and get through this, one “Are you going to have kids?” at a time.