Somebody Hit Snooze

At the present moment, I've been thinking alot about family and kids and all that jazz (happens when you see rugrats everywhere and you tend to get trapped in your own mind like I do most of the time). Maybe it's because my friends are all off having kids (first or second depending) and my parents are thirsty to have grandkids because well, everyone else's kids are off having them, so why shouldn't they get them too?

I read this article a few years back about teen pregnancy that completely struck a chord with me. In part because I had several close friends who were teen mothers and in part because I was always being questioned about how it is I didn't yet have a child (mind you when this article came out I was just 22 years old). One of the quotes that stuck was:

"Mothers are doing the best they can, but things come up. And the mothers are too young to know how to make decisions. They haven't been raised themselves, so how can they know how to raise a child?" -Doris Smith, 79, The Village Voice, 2001

That inspired a version of the poem you see below. It was originallly called "Letter to an Unborn Child." This is a derivative of that. In trying to capture my mood I thought this was a good fit. Enjoy!



Ring the Alarm

Can you hear that?
It's my biological clock
ticking in my ears
28 (almost 29) years have passed
and with every birthday
that reloj keeps getting louder
that timer that was embedded in my core,
sunk behind the ribs and put between the lungs,
is ready to sound.
It was set the day God and genetics decided
"This one here is gonna need more estrogen"

Before I give into the will of nature
And society
And expectations
And urges
I make this promise
One that cant.. be broken by time
Or circumstance
Or a rapidly moving
Timepiece that I can..t see and only feel
That is always going without me knowing

I promise
I will look back at my choices with pride
I won't let you show up before your time
I won't be selfish and request your presence when I know I can't yet sacrifice
I won't allow you to suffer for my mis-actions
I won't resent you or try to live my life through you
I won't be a baby's mama

I promise
To show you the world through more than just pictures and books
To give you more than what I had
To give you all that you deserve and more
To give you a real father who will be there to watch you grow
To give you 2 parents at all times, no matter whether he and I remain "we"
To give my life without hesitation

My promise is the reason why I can't understand..

How others lie down defeated
Mothers don't strive higher
How they become baby daddy's
Easily seduced by temporary passions
That lose heat like cold bed sheets
And then others that are making babies out of love
So quickly fall victim to scorn, resentment and youth.