Is There Such A Thing As A Biological Clock? I Didn't Used To Think So
The first time I ever heard of the term ‘biological clock’ was in an episode of Sabrina the Teenage Witch.
Kids of the ‘90s may recall the plot, where Aunt Hilda feels her biological clock ticking (which, in true Sabrina fashion, was a literally alarm clock), so she sends it in to the Other Realm to get it slowed down. Sabrina’s in charge of picking it up and accidentally loses it, leaving Aunt Hilda just 48 hours to have a child and get married. As a seven-year-old happily watching Nickelodeon and secretly wondering if my nan’s black cat could talk like Salem, the concept of a biological clock went over my head and, as I result, I didn’t think about it again. Fast forward to whenever I first watched (albeit not age-appropriately) Bridget Jones’ Diary. I remember the urge I felt to punch Jeremy for shaming Bridget for not finding a man or being pregnant yet – “You should really get yourself sprogged up, old girl. Times-a running out. Tick-tock.” Dick. It then began to cement the idea in my head that there was a shelf life to being a woman.
Going through puberty and entering my twenties, I understood the literal biological side of the biological clock, but I didn’t understand how people suddenly felt these pangs of realisation that they needed to settle down and start a family (if that’s what they wanted to do, of course). Of course, I got the pressure that society puts on women as a whole, to be a million and one things, but most importantly someone’s wife and someone’s mother, but what I couldn’t grasp was waking up one morning and thinking, I’m ready, it’s time. As I continued strolling through my twenties, watching engagements and weddings and baby announcements and second baby announcements pop up on my Facebook feed became increasingly frequent, and I felt very little towards them. I’ve always known that I’d like to have children, but I’ve also always known that I refuse to settle in order to achieve that.
My initial diagnosis of PCOS when I was 24 was the first time that my own fertility really came into question; because funnily enough, if your ovaries don’t cooperate properly, you’re gonna struggle to make a baby. I remember my OB/GYN telling me to “come back when you want a baby, and we’ll see what we can do”. That was fine by me, because it certainly wasn’t on the cards at the time. However, being told I’d need some extra help in the fertility department then brought a new list of concerns – will I have to find and save thousands to endure IVF? Would it even work? Does that mean I’d have to think about trying sooner rather than later? Whilst I knew I didn’t want a baby then, the latter question did bug me, but my ex’s adamance on becoming a father and not being “an old dad” was enough for me to take it off the table for the time being. It left my consciousness more as that long-term relationship ended, and the prospect of truly settling down took a few steps back to become slightly further out of reach.
However, as I’m now approaching the later years of my twenties, my initial assumption that the biological clock was just an internal biological thing has been proven otherwise, and that there is in fact an internal, more psychological alarm that goes off when you get to a certain age or stage in your life. When it comes to finding the right person and considering a family, I’ve noticed that my attitude of “ugh, no thanks” is slowly becoming “well, I guess it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…”. For the first time, I’m actually finding myself coming up with potential contingency plans for motherhood. Throw in chronic health complications in addition to my PCOS and subsequent difficulty to conceive, and my current singledom with no prospects, I have a number of considerations to make for my future. I’ve found myself mapping out various scenarios, some with a partner, some going ahead with motherhood solo (adoption, sperm donation and the multiple other avenues), and as birthdays continue to creep nearer, it’s something I guess I will have to face and solidify those contingencies in coming years.
Whilst I’m in absolutely no rush, and there are no life epiphanies currently going on, there is, however a more recently established wash of fear that if it’s not done soon, it never will, and time truly will run out. I’ve had conversations with close friends who have never so much as mentioned babies in their lifetime, who have suddenly found themselves entertaining the concept or, on a more fast-tracked path, are feeling very much ready to start a family any day. It’s with these conversations and my own thought processes around motherhood that I recognise now that the ‘feeling’ is actually pretty real, and goes beyond what I before assumed as just response to societal pressures. My saving grace is that I know I’m not alone in this feeling, and that I’m also actually very happy with my life as it is. I like to think that I have a lot more to experience from the world as an I before I become an us, and that alone is more than enough to put my mind – and my ticking clock – at ease.
Image credit: Laura Chouette
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