While listening to the entertainment news on the radio this morning I heard that Mariah Carey is indeed pregnant. She is also 41. Which, although I have long made peace with the very real possibility that I will never marry and have children myself, gave me a bit of hope. Much like someone hanging off the edge of a precipice feels when their hands get a little more purchase on the ledge one is hanging off of.
I am 38 and single, not dating seriously. I have a good job and recently bought a condo, I have some savings and all around am rather set in my ways. I have always been what my mother calls "too independent for my own good." As a child and teen I have always thought my life as an adult would be filled with adventure, travel, affairs and short-lived romantic liaisons. I was never one of those girls who imagined her wedding or thought up names for my children. And I thought I would be happy. But there is a part of me that actually would like to find someone to marry, buy a little house and have a few children with. But as the years progressed and no such person presented themselves in my life, I have settled for "just me" and conceded to the biological fact that it becomes increasingly more difficult to concieve and maintain a pregnancy past the age of 35.
And yet whenever I hear of a woman, like Mariah - career-driven and too independent for her own good - miraculously finding a soulmate and even more miraculously getting pregnant, I can't help but think it is not yet too late for me as well. The only question is, how much do I want it and am I willing to actively pursue it to its end.
The answer may be the scariest thing I ever admit to myself.
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