Dear Biological Clock (or “you pesky little thing” as I sometimes refer to you),

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We need to have a chat. Your recent antics have been quite outrageous. Much like my delightful 14-month-old son, you often ignore my requests for silence and seem to thrive on chaos. I find myself resorting to the internet for support, just like other parents do.

Let’s be real: I appreciate the nudge you gave me. If it were solely up to my cautious, overly-organized self, I might have missed the chance to become a mother altogether. You popping up regularly after I turned 30 definitely gave me the push I needed, and for that, I can forgive you for some of your madness.

While I can’t say I enjoy your relentless attempts to persuade me that every man I met was suitable for parenthood, I do thank you for connecting me with the amazing man who became my husband, encouraging me to step beyond my comfort zone.

And yes, you made sure I was aware of the ticking clock, reminding me that my ovaries were aging faster than I’d like. I’m grateful that you finally declared you were done waiting. It would’ve been helpful if you had kept quiet during the tough months we spent trying to conceive, but in the end, I got my sweet son. Thank you for that little nudge.

Now, it seems you’ve forgotten some key moments, so let me jog your memory.

You were certainly present during those four weeks of prodromal labor. I was out there walking for hours to hurry things along. Did you miss the 27 hours of labor, the two hours of pushing, and the emergency C-section? Because I sure didn’t.

Surely you recall the sleepless nights when my son was a newborn—those were tough times! And let’s not forget the four months of him not sleeping at all.

I’m just starting to feel like my body is my own again. Do you have any idea how freeing it is to leave the house without that breast pump? Or how incredible it was to finally recycle that entire cabinet of bottles? Most importantly, I can now enjoy a glass of wine without a second thought!

So here’s the deal: I don’t need your influence right now. I’m not saying “never,” but for the foreseeable future, I am firmly in the “probably not” camp regarding more kids. So, you and your hormonal friends can take a step back.

I refuse to feel guilty about my choices. If my son has siblings one day, wonderful! If not, he has plenty of cousins to grow up with. He will be just fine, and I won’t be failing as a mother if he ends up being an only child.

Yes, I’m currently shopping for tiny newborn clothes for a friend, and it brings back memories of when my little guy was that size. But then he hugs me and giggles, and that joy far outweighs the days of endless crying and diaper changes.

So let’s put an end to these ridiculous thoughts you keep planting in my head. When I remind myself that I’m not ready to share my attention yet, I don’t need you chiming in about how wonderful he would be as a big brother. I think we both witnessed him trying to bite the dog just the other day. It’s probably best to wait until he’s a little more ready to handle those responsibilities.

And just so you know, if we do decide to expand our family, you, my hormones, and my uterus might not get an invitation. I can’t forget how brutal 24 weeks of morning sickness was, plus I’ve been exploring adoption options, which is a fantastic path for many families.

In short, this decision belongs to the adults in this household, and we’re quite content as we are. So please, calm your tantrums and stop trying to push me toward something I’m not ready for. Or else, I might just schedule my husband for a vasectomy, and you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.

Best,
Me

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Summary: The author expresses frustration with their biological clock while reflecting on the journey to motherhood. They acknowledge the support received but assert their current decision to pause on having more children. The piece highlights the joys of parenthood, the challenges of newborn life, and the importance of making family decisions that feel right for them.