posted November 02, 2013 06:01 PM            

Let's get the party started

posted November 04, 2013 12:51 AM            

When asked if I would ever have children, I say "I would adopt."

SO many people have a problem with this but really, they can all keep those opinions nice and sweet if they want me to listen. Sure, don't adopt if you don't want to but don't act like I'll never love a child I adopt, 'kay?

posted November 04, 2013 01:02 AM            

I promised my one good friend a bottle of my best quality lifejuice lol for her own purposes.... Well actually when she decides to have children with her partner!
I'm just excited about the idea of having a perfect child with our genetics!
Its beauty is going to be out of this world...

My Hair, eyes, brows, and bone structure. her lips, nose, and skin tone....
Our height... dang..

biological Gemini father + Virgo mother has to be a mercurial baby!
watch it be a pisces/sag...

But I'm totally cool with being very distant/out of the way based on my personality and I wouldn't mind if my biological child wants get to know who she is and where she came from.... cause I love kids anyways!!! As long as I don't have to be a parent..

posted November 04, 2013 02:06 AM            

I don't want to have child with my partner... even though the extra fertile cancer moon/mars partner is totally desires a child LOL.
I know it I'm not oblivious... I see the interactions with children...
Parenting just does not seem natural to me, and I probably would not make an efficient parent.
I'm too optimistic and excessive... children need discipline and limits...
I'm the crazy uncle type!!!!
I suppose I should try and hone my soft saturn aspects.
Also my lifestyle is very selfish.... and I don't want to share my partner with anyone...

Honestly who knows when I'm 50 and have everything... but as of now.. HELL NO!
career-love-pets-material things are more than enough for me..

Oh yeah NO to marriage because it does not fit with my personality....
Okay others can get married, I'll even go to their weddings.... I'll throw rice or be the ring bearer!!!!
but Visions of us standing at the beach exchanging rings makes me want to vomit..
I'm not trying to be "cool" I'm serious, I cringe...
"This does not happen in real life only gushy movies type of feeling."
Even though I went to a beautiful wedding couple of months ago and it was really tasteful... and the ceremony was beautiful.

Yet I still feel so embarrassed by the concept... I just want to hide..
Even a court marriage... referring to someone as my spouse especially to another person..
OMG... I would freak out from wearing wedding rings...
I even get embarrassed by the word partner, boyfriend/girlfriend I hate those words..
LOL s.o I use that because it's a non specific acronym....
*AWKWARDLY* Oh yeah that's my s.o= "insignificant" other...LOL
just don't worry about us,okay?
Seeing someone is another popular phrase I use..

maybe I'm afraid of labels?

posted November 04, 2013 03:55 PM            

Prism, unfortunately you don't qualify as childfree but you're still welcome here ^^

Kerosene, I have doubts when it comes to you But let's say you're in.

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I'm just excited about the idea of having a perfect child with our genetics!

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Also my lifestyle is very selfish...

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I have a request. Don't use the word "selfish" while explaining yourslef. This won't help us become accepted.

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I don't understand people who have such strong preferences

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YTA, sometimes I wonder if you're a robot by any chance

posted November 04, 2013 05:48 PM            

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Then you don't understand 90% of humanity

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^ I was thinking that while typing my last post.

I honestly don't understand though because I can't put myself in their shoes.
I have Mars conj Neptune in the 7th so it's all the same for me. I just don't care which way things go.

posted November 04, 2013 06:01 PM            

quote:

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Originally posted by I'm so cappy:

YTA, sometimes I wonder if you're a robot by any chance

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No. By the definition, I'm just extremely native 10th House Capricorn.

posted November 04, 2013 06:32 PM            

I couldn't stop thinking about the body, what a hard fact it was. That philosopher who said we think, therefore we are, should have spent an hour in a maternity ward of Waite Memorial Hospital. He'd have had to change his whole philosophy.

The mind was so thin, barely a spiderweb, with all its fine thoughts, aspirations, and beliefs in its own importance. Watch how easily it unravels, evaporates under the first lick of pain. Gasping on the bed, Yvonne bordered on the unrecognizable, disintegrating into a ripe collection of nerves, fibers, sacs, and waters and the ancient clock in the blood. Compared to the eternal body, the individual was a smoke, a cloud. The body was the only reality. I hurt, therefore I am.

The nurse came in, looked up at th monitor, checked Yvonne's contractions, blood pressure, her movements crisp and authoritative. The last shift we'd had Connie Hwang, we'd trusted her, she smiled and touched Yvonne gently with her plump hands. But this one, Melinda Meek, snapped at Yvonne for whining. "You'll be fine," she said. "You've done this before." She scared me with her efficiency, her bony fingers. I could tell she knew we were foster children, that Yvonne wouldn't keep the baby. She'd already decided we were irresponsible and deserved every bit of our suffering. I could see her as a correctional officer. Now I wished my mother was here. She would know how to get rid of Melinda Meek. Even in transition she would spit in Melinda's stingy face, threaten to strangle her in the cord of the fetal monitor.

"It hurts," Yvonne said.

"Nobody said it was a picnic," Melinda said. "You've got to breathe."

Yvonne tried, gasped and blew, she wanted everyone to like her, even this sour-faced nurse.

"Can't you just give her something?" I said.

"She'd doing fine," Melinda said crisply, her triangular eyes a veiled threat.

"Cheap-ass ************* ," the woman said on the other side of the white shower curtains. "Don't give the poor people no damn drugs."

"Please," Yvonne said, clutching at Melinda's white jacket. "I beg of you."

The nurse efficiently peeled back Yvonne's hand, patted it firmly onto her belly. "You're already eight centimeters. It's almost over."

Yvonne sobbed softly, rhythmically, hopelessly, too tired to even cry. I rubbed her stomach.

Nobody ever talked about what a struggle this all was. I could see why women die in childbirth. They didn't catch some kind of microbe, or even hemorrhage. They just gave up. They stopped caring whether or not the baby came. They knew if they didn't die, they'd be going through it again the next year, and the next. I could understand how a woman might just stop trying, like a tired swimmer, let her head go under, the water fill her lungs. I slowly massaged Yvonne's neck, her shoulders, I wouldn't let her go under. She sucked ice through threadbare white terry. If my mother were here, she'd have made Melinda Meek cough up the drugs, sure enough.

"Mamacita, ay," Yvonne wailed.

I didn't know why she would call for her mother. She hated her mother. She hadn't seen her in six years, since the day she locked Yvonne and her brothers and sisters in their apartment in Burbank to go out and party, and never came back. Yvonne said she let her boyfriends run a train on her when she was eleven. I didn't even know what that meant. Gang bang, she said. And still she called out, Mama.

It wasn't just Yvonne. All down the ward, they called for their mothers. Mommy, ma, mom, mama. Even with husbands at their sides, they called out for mama. Nine hours ago, when we came in, a woman with a voice like a lye bath alternately screamed at her husband and called for her mother. A grown woman sobbing like a child. Mommy....I was embarrassed for her. Now I knew better.

I held on to Yvonne's hands, and I imagined my mother, seventeen years ago, giving birth to me. Did she call for her mother? I imagined her screaming at my father, calling him worthless, a liar, useless, until he went out for a beer, leaving her alone with the landlady on a cold November morning. She had me at home, she'd never liked doctors. I could imagine how her screams and curses must have pierced the quiet of the walk street in Venice Beach, startling a kid going by on a skateboard, while the landlady smoked hash and rifled her purse. But did she call out, Mami, help me?

I thought of her mother, the one picture I had, the little I knew. Karin Thorvald, who may or may not have been a distant relation of King Olaf of Norway, classical actress and drunk, who could recite Shakespear by heard while feeding the chickens and who drowned in the cow pond when my mother was thirteen. I couldn't imagine her calling out for anyone.

But then I realized, they didn't mean their own mothers. Not those weak women, those victims. Drug addicts, shopaholics, cookie bakers. They didn't mean the women who let them down, who failed to help them into womanhood, women who let their boyfriends run a train on them. Bingers and purgers, women smiling into mirrors, women in girdles, women on barstools. Not those women watching TV while they made dinner, women who dyed their hair blond behind closed doors trying to look twenty-three. They didn't mean the mothers washing dishes wishing they'd never married, the ones in the ER, saying they fell down the stairs, not the ones in prison saying loneliness is the human condition, get used to it.

They wanted the real mother, the blood mother, the great womb, mother of fierce compassion, a woman large enough to hold all the pain, to carry it away. What we needed was someone who bled, someone deep and rich as a field, a wide-hipped mother, awesome, immense, women like huge soft couches, mothers coursing with blood, mothers big enough, wide enough, for us to hide in, to sink down to the bottom of, mothers who would breathe for us when we could not breathe anymore, who would fight for us, who would kill for us, die for us.

Yvonne was sitting up, holding her breath, eyes bulging out. It was the thing she should not do.

"Breathe," I said in her ear. "Please, Yvonne, try."

She tried to breathe, a couple of shallow inhalations, but it hurt too much. She flopped back down on the narrow bed, too tired to go on. All she could do was grip my hand and cry. And I thought of the way the baby was linked to her, as she was linked to her mother, and her mother, and all the way back, inside and inside, knit into a chain of disaster that brought her to this bed, this day. And not only her. I wondered what my own inheritance was going to be.

posted November 04, 2013 06:35 PM            

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Other than that option ever coming up, I don't want to have kids.

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If I ever end up with a child that will be a child of my friends. But I hope that never happens. Cause that would mean they're either sick or dead. Besides, I'm not mommy material as you already know. If me taking custody was the only way to protect the kid from landing in a children's house and I had resources, I would do it though. I'd be terrified but I would do it.

Odette, at least you're stress-free

posted November 04, 2013 08:08 PM            

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Originally posted by I'm so cappy:
Pixie, are you a sadist?

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I just love poetic insights like that, and I also like it when truth gets represented, even when it's ugly.

And I found I got jealous of the sentient lizard races in my original scifis...they lay eggs that hatch...and that's how it SHOULD be done, not burst forth from your body like Alien. Here, from a rough draft of one of them:

Hezin (sentient alien lizard called a ziv interviewing a human who is now traveling with them as their species finds humans very difficult to understand, just as the reverse is true), "How exactly does one tell the difference between male & female among humans when their colors are chaotic and leg sizes about the same?"

"Color and leg length isn't part of gender in humans like ziv. Instead you look to the shape of the body, especially the hips and torso. You can't always tell this way, but usually you can. Men usually have a lot more hair on their face, or at least have to shave their face more. For some reason many women shave their legs while men just shave their face and let their legs get hairy. Men smell different, too, and so does the cologne they wear instead of perfume. Men are usually stronger, but not always. The main thing is that men have their genitals on the outside while women have genitals that are on the inside like a ziv."

"How are the eggs hatched?"

"They're not laid like ziv do, so the hatchling, called a *baby* hatches from the body."

[Silence, as Hezin twists in a way that expresses distress and even shocked horror.]

posted November 05, 2013 03:59 PM            

What the humanity needs are artificial outer wombs

posted November 06, 2013 12:28 PM            

I may be persuaded to relent and have a wedding one day. If I ever have enough disposable income to throw the big party without going into debt.

posted November 06, 2013 12:41 PM            

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Originally posted by Odette:
I don't understand people who have such strong preferences .. like "I would love to have children and get married. That would be the best, most amazing thing ever and it would make my entire life worth living!" or the opposite.. "I would hate to have children. I could never get married. I am staying away from all this sh*t"

I mean..... just roll with the punches and see where life takes you.. Stop stressing so much! You don't control everything anyway

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I don't think there's anything wrong with having strong preferences. Not everyone is a loosey-goosey mutable sign. Some of us are just naturally fixed and have strong convictions. There's nothing wrong with that either.

posted November 09, 2013 09:31 PM            

For one thing, childbirth just seems so unnatural to me lol. I really do wish we could lay eggs like lizards.

I could take care of kids sure, I am responsible enough, financially fit. But i do not have the maternal yearnings. I don't think they are going to kick in, but who knows? I am 26 years old. Maybe it will change someday, but i really don't know.

I cannot stand the thought of marriage either. The whole thing i just can't see myself doing even though I have a terrific partner.