Earlier this year I talked about my funk. I haven’t had the courage to write about part of that depression until now. I’m thirty-four years old and not naive that my days of becoming a mother are more limited the older I become. In fact, when I was in my twenties I made a remark that if I did not have kids by the time I was thirty-five I guess I would not have children at all. Needless to say remembering those words coming out of my mouth this year on my birthday was a hard pill to swallow. Maybe that’s part of why mother’s day was so hard for me this year. I attempted to start writing about why mothers should need shown appreciation, and my other mother, earlier this year and could not bring myself to finish the post. Not on Mother’s Day and not because I don’t believe in such. I did not because when you are faced with a uterus who is constantly angry at you and judging you for the lack of child in your womb it is difficult to do so.

Continue reading “Tick tick tock goes the internal clock” →