Am I Ready.

Growing up, I always liked babies and loved to hold them. I was the "perfect little helper," my Aunt Marie would say. If you'd asked me if I wanted children of my own, I would have unequivocally said yes. "Maybe 4 or 5," I'd say, "but I'm waiting until I'm 30."

I turned 30 this year, and I don't feel ready to have children. Not not ready in the you're never ready sense, but not ready in the maybe I actually won't. I still love babies but me, a mother? The ticking time clock of my ovaries was starting to feel like a deafening bell ringing, "Do you want to become a mother or not?" It was a sweet winter weekend that taught me there might be room for both....

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No Longer the Good Girl

I was the good girl. For me being good was easy. I liked following the rules, and making my parents happy. If I was the perfect kid, the perfect sister, and the perfect friend, I thought life would be easier but also better. When you're young, adults, teachers, family all tell you, "be a good girl." Being good made other people happy, so it would make me happy (right?). I completely self-identified as such and was that good girl growing up. Crushes and unrequited loves would tell me I was "green" and "a girl to marry." My best guy friend in high school brought me back a souvenir from his summer vacation: a bumper sticker that read, "Good girls need it too." It was a crude yet accurate token to my teenage self. My mother was horrified (and to no one's surprise, I was not allowed to put it on my car)....

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Fuck It! Let's Play Hooky.

If someone were to ask anyone who knows me well to describe me in one word, they would likely say "responsible," "organized," "planner," or maybe "anxious." Lovely, right? While I'm constantly trying to navigate my anxiety by trying to be more in the moment, I can't help but feel less anxious if my day is planned, my desk is organized, and I'm doing exactly what I think everyone wants and expects me to do. I'm a rule follower (thank you, Catholic guilt!)....

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