The need to breed

One fine evening (not so long ago), myself and a couple of friends, whilst quaffing white wine spritzers, found ourselves talking about the biological clock. Admittedly we didn’t leap straight in there – with genteel decorum we covered off some of our more disastrous relationships, cackled quite a bit, quaffed a few more spritzers and had a significant work-related bitch before we launched right in. Nevertheless, it is fairly disturbing to me that this is the second time in about a year I have found myself in a fairly in-depth conversation that leads me to wonder whether or not I should feel the need to contribute towards the gene pool.

Understand this. I have had, for the majority of my life, absolutely no intention of breeding. Ever. Not at all. Not even if I had the last fertile womb space up for grabs on the planet. The prospect of pregnancy has always been on a par with that scene in Aliens for me, and frankly I am way too selfish to be able to envision spending my hard earned pennies on a creature that won’t be having a decent conversation with me for nigh on 30 years.

So I have spent a significant proportion of my life avoiding babies. Furtively edging away when that maternity-leave friend comes back into the office with their offspring to the coos and delight of what appears to be every other female in the building. Looking alarmed when the cousin (the one you used to climb trees with and ordered around mercilessly) enters the family event with a gaggle of toddlers in tow (Surely they can’t all be hers? She’s only about 20 isn’t she?) I usually bolt out to the kitchen and go as far as offering to wash up in order to avoid the inevitable ‘Would you like to hold her?’. Because generally speaking – No. I wouldn’t.

But here’s the bit that seems to have confused me. In my last relationship, I almost got as far as wondering about it. I started to look at other peoples' babies and think that they were ‘kind of OK’. Indeed, shortly after my abrupt exit from said relationship, the above picture was taken [NB I seem to be unable to upload again. Will try in a separate post] and while I may claim that it was only the 3 glasses of wine that got me there, I’d be lying. That baby is lovely. She’s absolutely gorgeous. I liked holding her. You can tell from the picture – I’m smiling for heaven’s sake. And I’m just going to edge away from that thought before I start coo-ing again.

Now I occupy an undisclosed area of my early thirties, so do some of my friends. Some of my friends are older than this. And there’s a whole bunch of scenarios that they are facing..

Couple number 1:
Never wanted children. Travel the world, spend their money on themselves. Are still totally and utterly in love. But now she’s reaching late thirties she’s wondered.. Does she want kids? He’s OK. He can change his mind pretty much any time.. but can she?

Couple number 2:
She never wanted children. He always did. On marrying she agreed that if he wanted them she’d have them. But post marriage it looks like he’s the one with cold feet – and he’s the one putting it off. Which is all fine with her – except (again) she’s beginning to bump into the next ‘which age bracket are you’ tick box.

Couple number 3:
She split up with a younger man that she loved passionately – because he couldn’t commit to the fact that he would ever want children – he certainly didn’t want them now. So now she’s with someone she doesn’t really love (don’t get me wrong – they’re happy – she’s just not in that earth moving territory) and a year and a half on she’s the one putting off having the kids. And she’s wondering – would she have been better off just going with the love thing and missing out on the kids?

Couple number 4:
She always wanted kids. But she’s got a second time round man who’s already got them and doesn’t want more. And she’s come to feel fine with that – because she went with the being in love thing. You’ve just got to wonder – in ten years’ time – will she still feel the same way?

And me:
Single. So apparently not facing this dilemma at all. Surely I can easily fall back into those old patterns of child avoidance. But the worry is that given my recent (and radical for me) shift from ‘keep it away from me’ to ‘Awwww, she’s lovely [insert cooing] but it’s only your baby I like’, is there an indication that I am also subject to the tick tick boom syndrome? What do I do if one fine day, three years from now I wake up with an uncontrollable urge to procreate – and no partner to oblige?

There’s no obvious answer to this one. Except to assume, from the couples that I know and the decisions that they’ve made, that my choice to remain without child isn’t actually a fixed thing. That it’s going to be dependent on the man that I meet and the priorities that we have. As a couple. Not just as individuals. And to hope that, wherever that takes me – nappies or Napa valley, I’ll be happy with it.