Tuesday, October 20, 2009

In which I use "exceptionally" too many times

Everyone I know is pregnant. Maybe not everyone, but a significant percentage of my female friends between the ages of 23 and 30 are carrying a live fetus in their bodies that is due to arrive in April or May. They are all exceptionally tired, and hungry, and nauseous. They don’t like brushing their teeth, staying up late, or spending money. Typically this would suit me just fine, as someone that enjoys a solid nine hours of sleep a night, and a budget that is exceptionally tight due to the massive amount of loans accumulated in the education of my spouse. Brushing my teeth? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the feeling of smooth, white enamel.

But I agree on the other two.

Despite these similarities, I am still in an exceptionally different boat than these (former) peers. I don’t peruse the internet for information about the development of my (non existent) child from week to week. I haven’t registered at the mecca of all expectant mothers. I can’t say I own a copy of their guide to their (constantly changing) universe…and why would I? I don’t live there.

Nevertheless I would be lying if I said I don’t allow myself to look into their morphing existence from afar, secretly wondering if I’d like to join them. Dare I admit I would like a growing fetus of my own? Might I care for a dose of constant nausea, clothes that are built for a large growth, and more than my fair share of exhaustion?

And this is when I realize that for every stage of life I’ve inhabited, I have also looked forward with longing to the next. In elementary school, it was the halls of middle school. In middle school, it was the freedom of high school. In high school, it was the independence of college. And then a job, and then marriage, and now it is children.

I have a good enough memory to recognize that for every step forward, something is lost with the last. Approaching adulthood brought much responsibility in addition to freedom. Marriage has brought beautiful companionship, but a little less independence. So much about life is being content and appreciative of the present…knowing that every step forward may not be reversed.

Someday I ardently hope to experience this change of existence, but for now I will enjoy minty, fresh breath, and handing crying babies back to their owners when I have had enough.

1 comment:

  1. I can appreciate this post. When to have babies is a big decision, and a big sacrifice (just like giving up independence granted you companionship)!

    But when the time comes, remember this; sacrifice is giving up something, for something better! :D With the right perspective, how can one regret it?