An ovary-related Robin Scherbatsky realisation.

I had a revelation recently. I can pinpoint the moment it occurred – the very second my mind was overloaded with something alien, when my body felt a change and suddenly my future plans and life goals were, ermm, 'updated' a little. 
Yes, it was...a Robin Scherbatsky realisation. 

 

The moment had threatened to come before, actually. The very week before. It bubbled under the surface of my brain when I was once again lying on my GP's padded table, having another examination of my innards in hopes of finding an explanation for my recent pains. The doc was checking if I had a cyst on my ovary. The word 'ovary', when it was first uttered, had pinched me inside. Just a little. But I dismissed that feeling as quickly as it came. 

But no, the actual moment – my Robin Scherbatsky realisation – came after I had a midnight CT scan. I had been wheeled into the unit and then back to my bed by porters, which had actually been quite fun. I sucked up fresh night air as I whooshed down the empty corridors, I learned the names of each ward, and the porters were delighted to chat with me about the ducklings born in the little garden next to the unit I was being kept in. Being back in bed, though, was still a relief. Everything hurt. Going back and forth in a machine can be quite tiring.

Then the following morning, a surgeon came by with his squad of doctors and nurses and sisters (oh my!) to tell me what was wrong. He told me about my inflamed organs that had 'melded together'; the bowels, the appendix and...the right ovary.

This time, 'ovary' sounded delicate and precious. Like hands being wrung and hope being extinguished. I sat up and frowned. After the surgeon left, promising he'd see me soon, I examined myself. Because there, in that moment, just a few seconds before...I'd suddenly been desperate to save my baby-makers. 

Now, you may be wondering how does this relate to Robin Scherbatsky?! Although I'm sure my fellow former HIMYM obsessives will have got the reference already (hi guys, let's all hug and pretend that absolute shite fest of an ending never happened, shall we?). 
Robin Scherbatsky was allergic to relationships and never had any desire to start a family someday, or any day. She warned the very broody Ted of this when they first met, and still he persisted. Silly Ted. Anyway, in series 6/7 (spoiler) Robin had a pregnancy scare and then found out that not only was it just that, a mere scare, but that she was actually incapable of having kids. And despite being passionately against the idea for years, it unexpectedly hurt her when she learned it was not just a 'no thank you' choice made thing - it was biologically impossible. Not an option. Never happening. 

I don't get broody. Nope. Never. I'll see a baby and deliver the customary coos and polite questions for the parents. I'll smile and pull faces if I see an infant peering at me curiously over their mum's shoulder. I shake my head in amazement when I see the tiny pairs of shoes for sale in Sainsbury's. However, I never ever feel...an actual Wanting.

I also get those rather evil baby-related thoughts, sometimes. A kid starts crying and I mutter 'shut that little shit up'. I see a child with his or her lunch smeared all over their face, and I shudder. I'll also swear to anyone who'll listen that only 1/5 babies is actually cute. Yeah. Fight me. 

I have never been able to properly understand The Wanting. Even mama once said to me 'it makes no sense', listing all the terrible things to consider when planning a family – the pregnancy, the painful childbirth, the endless expenses, and that overwhelming sense of terror when given a child to take home and look after with pretty much no expert help – but then she went on to say 'you just do'.

She also assured me that you'll always think your own baby is cute. 

It still makes no sense to me. Or, it didn't. But then when I had that momentary panic that my, ermm, equipment could be compromised, I realised that actually I am maybe not as against the idea as I had originally thought. In fact, I may have to change my stance from 'do not want' to 'someday maybe might want'. That's a bit scary, isn't it? 

I once saw a TV interview with a certain female celebrity (nope, I cannot remember her name, yes that annoys me no end, but the words said are the important thing here, okay?) She was asked about someday having her own family – I mean, obviously, as she's a famous woman in her twenties, what else is there to talk about? – and she responded with lovely musings about how nice it could be to have 'a little version of you' around. I suppose I agree – it would be nice to have a mini Grace in the world. Hell, it would be extra awesome to have a teeny human hybrid of me and a man I quite like, wouldn't it? 

I have considered that The Wanting could happen when I actually have someone to want with. I actually let myself...fancy, once. I merely fancied the idea of having little ones with my most recent ex. That may have been purely because he was such a gorgeous caring guy though, and I knew he'd be good at the whole kids thing. I also knew he loved the idea himself and would be all for it, someday. 

I think being with a person who made me feel that way was hella enlightening, because it taught me that I could want it, really genuinely want it, if I had the right situation going for me. A pretty specific situation. The ingredients for said situation would have to be: steady job and finances, good health, stable brain, plus someone I love quite a bit and want to create a person with. Also, if I'm gonna get picky, which I often do in life, I'd really like two sets of grandparents, guaranteed. Preferably nearby, as well. And the ideal age for all this to happen to me would be at least 30. No earlier, thanks.

So yes. I might want that, someday. That being...children. Eeekk. Believe me, I am as shocked as you are at this declaration. Mind you, I am not suddenly crazed with the idea and desperate to fulfil a new goal. No. It is only a want based on necessary terms: security, stability and love. Much as I'd love to do a Lorelai Gilmore and be a badass independent mama. (sorry, I cannot get enough TV references it seems...) (my kids would definitely grow up with these shows, just fyi) 



(Shout-out: photos of me were taken by mama, who also moved furniture out the way so I could get the perfect background. Legend.)