The Biological Clock: Is it Real?

As a woman in my early thirties, this question has been looming over me more and more often. I am happily married and gainfully employed. My husband and I own a house and we have three dogs. We are crazy about each other, can never seem to spend enough time together, and we treat our dogs as family members. So why have I developed a nagging feeling of being incomplete?

As an adult, I never gave much thought to having children beyond grimacing when someone asked me, "So when are you going to have kids?" This question was usually said to me by someone who was already a mother, her clothes stained with spit-up, her hair a mess, and sporting a child clinging to each leg as some sort of fashion accessory. Why would I want that, I wondered.

And it seems like parents are always talking out of both sides of their mouth. On one hand they are complaining about the lack of sleep, of personal time, of intimacy with their spouse and they shoot an angry look at the rug rats as though children are to blame. Then they plaster on a smile and say, "They're hard work, but they're worth it!" As a woman on the fence about having children, this scenario is not exactly endearing.

When I was growing up, I hated babysitting. I couldn't stand kids. Babies were the worst. I just felt so awkward around them. I didn't know how to hold them and when I did hold one, it fought me as though I were the Devil himself embracing it. I don't exactly get the warm and fuzzies around children now, either.

But now that I am in my thirties, I am wondering things. Is it really that bad? Would my marriage suffer as bad as other people's have? I wonder if I'd had a plan for my life earlier on if I would have had kids by now. Sometimes I think if I'd had them in my twenties I would have just had them. I wouldn't have questioned it; I just would have done it. Now, it seems, I've had too much time to think about what having kids means, and how it might affect me as a wife, professional, and mother. I've had too much time to observe friends becoming mothers and watching them turn into someone I no longer recognize. I don't want that for myself. I feel like I am just beginning to embrace myself and accept me for who I am, flaws and all. I am just beginning to establish a deep relationship to my husband, one that has been carefully cultivated. I am just beginning to get my finances in order. Kids would screw up all of that hard work. Are they worth it?

And yet, I wonder...am I missing something? I start to feel afraid. It's not like I have all the time in the world anymore. It is said that people regret things they didn't do more often than things they have done. If I don't have kids, well, it's not like I can go back and re-do that part of my life. Not like money. I can always make more money. But having kids, well, I have an expiration date in the near future as to how long I can safely have my own kids, should I decide to. Is this my biological alarm clock going off?

I didn't think I even possessed a biological clock, to be honest. If I had, I figured it would have gone off long ago. Then again, I always was a late bloomer. I look young for my age and not all my wisdom teeth have even come in yet.

And now the dreams have started. I used to have dreams where I was pregnant. In earlier years, I would wake up in a cold sweat. Now those dreams don't bother me. Then last night, I had a dream where I actually gave birth and we brought the little bundle of joy home. Strangely, this dream did not send me running for the hills. Is this my biological clock?

I am imagining things, too. Like I can imagine passing down the traditions my mother passed down to me. I see a flash image where I am making an apple pie with my daughter, showing her how to measure out the flour and roll the dough. Now flash to a scene where I am cheering my son on in his football game. Flash to a scene where I'm putting on the finishing touches to my daughter's Halloween costume as Dad gets ready to take them trick-or-treating. Flash to a scene on Christmas morning, my husband and I exchanging knowing smiles as the kids tear into their presents. Christmas was made for kids, don't you know. I never imagined these things before I turned thirty. Is this my biological clock?

I know some women do not believe in the biological clock. I wasn't sure I did, but then I turned thirty. Now I feel differently. We are nothing more than civilized hairless monkeys, really. We all still laugh at bodily noises like farts. We belch and think it's funny. We are still a territorial, predatory species. So what's to say that our biological side has no impact on our thoughts or brain chemicals, gently urging us to ensure the population of our species through the softening of thoughts and the power of dreams? It is tough to think of ourselves as little more than all the other creatures that walk upon this earth, but that is because one of our built-in survival techniques is our egocentric nature.

The biggest question of all, perhaps, is: even if there is a biological clock, should we listen to it? In the end, do our bodies know what is best for us?