The Big Question

Okay. Children.

Do they end your life? As in, your ability to learn, produce, accomplish, create, etc?

I know the answer is no. I know that there are a million mothers out in the world that are doing meaningful things – being doctors, nurses, teachers, writers, architects, engineers, etc. I know that mothers create some of the most amazing art work, writing, inventions, and inspirations in the world. I know that not all mothers are defined by motherhood.

But will I be? Do I want to be defined by the number of, quality of, politeness of, cleanliness of, ability to do math of – my children?

Are these questions that anyone else asks themselves or am I just over thinking this thing? We’re not having children yet, but damn if it isn’t a time consuming question to answer.

To create life or not to create life. Whatever Shakespeare says, that is the real damn question.

Oh, and for god sake, forget for the length of this entry that I’m a bipolar, panicking agoraphobe, who has been hospitalized on more than one occasion and not so long ago. That part of the equation is so complicated as to border on impossible. It is, in fact, impossible.




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