I just read an article from the next issue of Newsweek titled, “Stop Setting Alarms on My Biological Clock.” I have posted the entire article below. After reading it, I feel like I should be more offended that I am, but yet I am not because the author makes some really good points.
Kevin and I made the choice to wait two years after we were married BEFORE we started our family. So, I understand and can sympathize a little with the author when she talks about being asked all the time why she wasn’t pregnant yet. One of my former co-workers asked me every week for like a year when if I was pregnant yet, and I have to agree with the author, it’s personal, and the constant questioning got annoying. It’s almost like becoming a mother was some sort of right of passage simply because I was married.
Recently I have been guilty of the same thing that once used to drive me crazy. My cousin got married this past Saturday, and two weeks before the wedding, I said, so when are you two going to have kids? They weren’t even married yet.
Now, that I am a mom to my precious little girl, who by the way is 19 months old today, the questions have started again. But, this time, it’s not annoying, it’s not offending, in fact, it doesn’t bother me at all. Why is this, I have asked myself several times? Well, I think it’s because I know in my heart that I want to have another baby, something I wasn’t sure of about a year ago. It wasn’t because Brooklyn was a bad baby or that being a mother was too much to handle. It was simply because I didn’t want her to feel like she didn’t have Mommy’s full attention and I didn’t know if I could love another baby as much as I love her. But, watching her personality take shape and see how compassionate she is toward other babies, her friends and her family, I know that we could add another baby, and that’s why the questions are okay this time around.
The one part of the article that did get to me was the last part when the author talks about manners and not bringing your children to adult only parties when they are clearly not invited. Well, that’s fine and dandy, but some parents, such as Kevin and I really love to spend time with our little girl. We love to take her with us wherever we go. This isn’t because we are trying to “inflict” her on others, it’s because we enjoy her company.
Enough said. What’s your take on the article?
><><><><><><><><><><
I am at a party chatting with a woman I know slightly. As her young son squirms out of her embrace, she slips her hand under my shirt. She's not getting fresh with me. She's touching my tummy with her cold hand and asking me, in a concerned voice, "Why aren't you pregnant yet?" I smile, break free from her touch, and head to the food table to fill said empty belly with her brat's birthday cake.
I love children and definitely plan on having them. Maternal instinct is oozing out of my pores: I've infantilized my dogs; I've gotten down on my hands and knees at the park with babies I barely know. My marriage is wonderful and solid, and we are both blessed with good health. I've been a nanny, a teacher, a youth-group leader. I've taken childhood-development courses solely for the purpose of someday raising happy, balanced children. I have always looked forward to becoming a mother.
So why don't I have kids or even the inkling right now? It's because of you. Yes, you: the fanatical mothers of the world. It may seem like ages ago now, but you weren't always like this. You, too, were sneering at the obnoxious parents who brought their infants to fancy, adult, nighttime restaurants or R-rated movies and let them carry on, ruining things for other patrons. You've been terrible advertising for the club that you so desperately need others to join.
If you want me to join your ranks—and you've made it clear with your cold, clammy hands on my stomach that recruiting my uterus is of paramount importance to you—I need to set some ground rules.
First, please stop asking me when I'm going to get pregnant.
For all you know, I cannot have kids. For all I know, I cannot have kids, as I have not yet tried. But imagine how painful this line of interrogation would be if I had submitted to all kinds of procedures, only to come up empty-wombed. It would be emotionally devastating. Yet ever since the day after my wedding two years ago, I have fielded this question from the eye doctor, the dental assistant, my yoga teacher, the bagger at the grocery store. All of them feel entitled to ask. Don't. It's none of your business.
Next, don't completely abandon your own life and passions. You're setting a bad example for aspiring mothers-to-be like me.
I recently expressed my happiness over an achievement I had at work to a mother-friend of mine. She said, dripping with condescension, "Well, you don't know happiness until you've had a baby."
That's very possible, but don't rain on my parade, as I've never said to you, "Remind me, when you went to that expensive college you majored in diaper-rash prevention, right?"
I happen to love my job. It fulfills me in ways no other person—even a child—could. I learned through my own mother's example that the best lesson you can teach your kids is to pursue their passions. It's not selfish to have your own life. In fact, it's selfish not to.
Now let's talk a bit about manners, as in please teach your children some. The world has rules, and kids should learn them. And being well mannered does not infringe on their individuality and freedom.
I crouched to meet the eye line of an acquaintance's 4-year-old to greet her, and in response, she punched me in the face so hard my mouth bled. What was more baffling was the mother's reaction: nothing to the child, but to me she said very sternly: "You really shouldn't talk down to kids."
I also shouldn't be punched in the face by kids whose parents don't know how to set basic boundaries. Experiences like this don't exactly encourage me to hurry up and get pregnant.
Finally, don't make your kid an extension of your own narcissism.
No one could possibly love your kids as much as you do, so stop inflicting them on others. Don't bring your kid to adult parties when you're not sure if it's kid-friendly. If they didn't invite your kid, they don't want your kid there. If you don't want to get a babysitter, stay home.
My husband thinks some people, particularly mothers, behave in these ways because it helps them validate their own choices. But he doesn't truly understand how infuriating it is, and that's because nobody badgers men with questions about procreation.
Becoming a parent was your decision, and I am thrilled for you. All I'm asking is that you let me make that choice in my own time. And keep your hands off my belly.
For who would share smiles and outshine the sun? Who would be the doctor and help everyone? Who would give food to those needing some? It's a good thing you're my little girl!
If you weren't my little girl, there'd be a hole in our home. A piece would be gone, we just couldn't go on. Our family's no fun without YOU! 
For who would be princess, the fairest of all? Who would spin circles and dance down the hall? Who would be mommy to all your dollies?
If you weren't my little girl, there'd be a big hole in my heart. A piece would be gone, I just couldn't go on. My heart would be searching for YOU!
For who would pick flowers to put in my vase? Who would give me kisses all over my face? Who'd say "I love you" in sweet little ways? It's a good thing you're my little girl! 
For God gave you to me. You're special, you see! There's no hole in my heart, you filled up that part! 
You're the best thing in life, my little sweetheart! And, Mo
