Some day

I go through waves. Of wanting and not wanting. Caring and not caring. For much of my adult life I have stated that I do not want kids. Maybe some day, I thought. When I'm older or when I'm established or when the time is right. Well, I am older now (and apparently should have had kids when I was 25).

So, sometimes I am overcome by the grief of realizing that I may never have children and I break down. Other times I am settled and okay with it.

Despite this realization, I am actually really happy with everything I am doing in my life right now. I am stoked that I get to participate in an intensive training program in meditation at The Interdependence Project and travel to New York six times out of the year (!). I get to do all kinds of fabulous things that get me fired up every morning. My life is full and fragrant and bursting.

But there is a part of me that feels increasingly disconnected from other women and this eats at me. Even the earth is referred to as a mother. Where does that leave me? If I am not a mother am I still not a woman? If I am not passing on my DNA, does that make me expendable?

Please don't get me wrong. I have an enormous amount of respect for what some of my friends go through every day. From what I can tell, being a parent looks like one of the most difficult and disgusting jobs in the world. Seriously.

I only wish there was a way for me to make peace with these questions.

Maybe one day.