Clearly, my life has changed since having black kids around me, since last year. Before if I was thinking about a baby I would automatically see him white. Now I see 2, one black and one white. I’ve basically never hold a black baby, never hold a mini-me, isn’t that effed up?
Making one sounds good in some way I am the root, the start. It definitely makes me smile to think about a big tree with grand-grand-grand-sons and daughters looking back at that French ancestor coming from nowhere. Child, you have grass fed cow milk in your blood and it’s coming from France’s center. 18-58 represent!
But yeah, it just sounds so selfish to me. I think about my teeth DNA, you don’t want that son. I had to wear every single mouth tool available for a decade to make it right. I can’t just be like “well, he’ll be lucky as I have been!” that’s not going to happen in a tighter and tighter world.
I would need so much margin, room, to conceive you and take care of you baby girl I’m not in that ballpark yet. If ever, that’s the bad thing.
Or not, I am so free. Facebook reminds it to me all the time. Meanwhile the window is slowly closing for me. Oh well.