By: Lex Jacobson
Every month, Devon and I take our 7-year-old niece out to a movie. She has three younger siblings and tends to be forgotten about and/or given way too many adult responsibilities, so we try to take her out alone and let her act like a kid. A kid who practices her kissing with Justin Beiber posters. But a kid nonetheless.
Last week when we had her out, Devon asked her what she wanted to be when she grows up, as it tends to change every few days.
“Well, I don’t think I’m going to do more school after I graduate high school, so I will probably have to marry someone with a really good job,” she said, as Devon and I tried to stifle our laughs, knowing that she doesn’t realize how many layers there are to that statement. “I don’t really want to do anything for work. I just want to be a mom,” she finished.
When I was telling my mom about my niece’s plan, my mom turned to me and said, “You were no different. All you wanted to do was to grow up and have lots of babies.”
I’ve always known that I’ve wanted to be a mom, but I don’t think I realized until my mother reminded me how incredibly deep the desire was, and how far back it goes. I also didn’t realize how much my niece and I actually think alike until her little comment came out and I saw myself in it. Granted, even though Devon has a good job, it’s not like I married rich!
I have a friend who is newly pregnant, who is the exact opposite of what I see myself being when/if I get pregnant. She is terrified to fall down the corporate ladder when she “has to” go on maternity leave. I couldn’t care less, even though I’ve worked incredibly hard to get to where I am. She wants her husband to take the parental leave so that she can rush back to work. I will take the blissful full year off that Canada allows post-baby. It would be nice to go back to my job, but I have a feeling it will just feel like a regular old job: working for money. I have the utmost respect for the women who work incredibly hard to fight to break the glass ceilings that many of us face as women (and lesbians) in the workplace. I am not a trailblazer in that regard, but I am grateful to those who are.
I think I’m just realizing – and this may be way too much to ask for or expect – that once I have a baby, I will have everything I’ve ever wanted in this world. I already have the woman of my dreams, for whom I’m so lucky to have. My health is stable(ish); it could be better, but I have to remind myself that it has been a lot worse. I have a great family. I have amazing friends. I will soon live back in the city that I’ve been in love with for most of my life. I have a good job and we are getting by quite fine.
It’s the baby that is the elusive cherry on this metaphorical sundae of life. Is it too silly to hope that once a baby comes, life will be complete?