Why did I wait so long?

It’s so easy to get angry. Isn’t it? A taxi pulls out in front, missing my front bender by a hair; a motorcyclist, leaden with mountains of broomsticks on his rack, cuts in front of my car so he can hop onto the sidewalk and drive across the crosswalk. The red light applies to everybody else stuck in traffic, but he feels entitled to skirt the law and do as he pleases, so do the motorcyclists following his example. Another rider wedges his bike and load between my car and the wall of the tunnel so that he doesn’t have to wait like the rest of the us. His metal bars scrap the side of my car, but he doesn’t stop. He rides on; he is too important to stop. When you have a society where each person acts this way, it’s ripe for chaos. And it really pisses me off! But of all the things that anger me, the worst are the things I do to myself.

Why did I spend the first three decades of my life trying to prevent pregnancy, only to realize that pregnancy later in life is mission impossible. Why didn’t I know this before? How could I have missed this important fact of life? Was I absent that day in school? Or were the teachers so busy educating us on the evils of sex-telling us to wait-that they forgot to mention the biological clock? I didn’t feel my biological clock ticking. Am I that out of touch with my body?

I recently learned that in ovarian years, I am two years older than my actual age. Does this mean my ovaries were in existence long before my parents got together. How is that possible? Based on my ovarian age, the odds of me getting pregnant is lower than the odds of the US overcoming their deficit. How depressing is that? And apparently it’s decreasing every day-my odds of getting pregnant, not the US trade deficit. So, I’m angry at myself for all those years of waiting-waiting to become more mature, more stable, more competent to be a parent. I’m still waiting to be those things, but now I realize that I may never have to wait for parenthood; it may never come to fruition.

Being angry at someone is easy. You curse at bad drivers, which I have been known to do on occasion when I am driving alone. But anger at yourself doesn’t go away as easily as anger at a passing motorist. It seeps into your pores, it lingers, it turns to frustration, rue, sorrow and, eventually…self-reflection.

The Valley Spirit never dies
It is named the Mysterious Female
And the Doorway of the Mysterious Female
Is the base from which Heaven and Earth sprang.

It is there within us all the while;
draw upon it as you will, it never runs dry
-Tao Te Ching

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~ by djangoqueen on January 6, 2011.