I’m not interested in your baby, lady.

I don’t want this blog to be all about my problems. I intend to talk about fun, nerdy things too. More exciting things are on the horizon, guys.

However, this is my blog and sometimes I need to vent.

This is another essay about my hang-ups. Particularly, my hang-up with having babies.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the idea of babies. Most babies are cute and give people hope for the future. Being around newborns make a lot of women get the “I want one” urge. Myself included, but I always squash that nonsense with a quickness. I don’t hate babies; I just don’t want another one. For reasons. Reasons that stem from the relationship I had with the ex.

 I won’t use his name; he doesn’t deserve it.

The whole story is kind of long and involved, but here’s the highly abridged version. We were together around two years. He started truck driving and a lot of that time he was away. My family hated him and I did a lot of sneaking around. Bottom line is, I got pregnant. He didn’t believe me for some strange reason. I think we was getting some bad messages from his friends. He broke up with me a few weeks after I told him about the baby. I didn’t see or hear from him again until my son was two months old. I ran into him at a gas station. I don’t think he ever saw the baby.

Part of this story is that I’d never wanted kids. Not even when I was little. Then, all of a sudden, I’m left pregnant and alone. It was pretty traumatic for me. I spent Super Bowl week of 2004 in a psych ward on suicide watch and I only remember feeling angry, frustrated and terrified the entire time I was pregnant.

The pregnancy was normal and my son was a healthy newborn, but I can never let myself go through having another child. I know the situation would be different and I wouldn’t have to go through it alone but I can’t make it okay in my mind.  It’s an ugly spot in my marriage. There was a point when we couldn’t even talk about having more children without me crying. I have gotten better over time. I can talk about it now, but it’s still uncomfortable. I even have a hard time when other people tell me about their pregnancies. It’s really irritating.

I hate it when people give me a hard time about having another kid. Just because I got married isn’t a reason to start breeding as soon as possible.

My husband is amazing about the whole thing and I feel really guilty. He doesn’t have any kids of his own and would be more than happy to have a baby. I just can’t do it. He doesn’t like how hurt I am over the whole situation and I know he’s frustrated too. We don’t bring it up very often, but it always feels like a dark cloud over our whole relationship.


If you are one of those ladies that enjoys being pregnant, I tip my hat to you. It’s not for me. I can’t promise that I won’t side-eye you whenever you start talking about how fulfilled and beautiful you feel. I did it once; I know the game.

Also, don’t get offended if I stay fifteen feet away from your glorious, shiny newborns. I swear it’s not them, It’s me.