If you want to get all technical about it, I’m childless. Also, though, 23 so you can understand why. There’s definitely plenty of time for me to be an all singing all dancing career oriented gal for at least a few more years before entering a period of some semblance of settling down to push progeny out of certain orifices. Seriously, 23. It’s not yet baby time (even if I do have to remind myself every now and then that I’m actually younger than I think I am. It’s definitely not dementia, I simply look old).
Really though, it’s all too easy to become riddled with fear that you might not be able to cut the mustard when it comes to raising the tiny ones. To be honest, I’m not completely sure what the smelly yellow condiment has to do with it but when the day arrives I’m sure I’ll be perfectly willing to learn.
But when that alien parasite starts squirming about in your belly (you can definitely tell I took human physiology at university, right? Both modules) it’s only natural for anxious premonitions of inadequacy to arise. You look around you and see perfect parents. It’s almost as if they have permanent Instagram filters on because there’s just no way for them to be so pristine and unruffled by the pressure of modern life. I can barely keep my hair in a presentable state for longer than half an hour, how on earth am I supposed to do the same and more for a whole other human being?
The doubts nag away inside, bubbling away at the back of your mind. I’m absolutely not needlessly dwelling on a completely irrelevant subject because I’m having a mild panic over stuff I’ve actually got going on. What on earth would make you suggest such a thing? You don’t know me. But, thanks for the support.
Song choices courtesy of: Blue Swede, Joshua Radin and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend