How old are you? If you’re less than 75, I can guarantee you that one day you will come to rue your decision to sterilize yourself.
“If you’re less than 75, I can guarantee you that one day you will come to rue your decision to sterilize yourself.”
Probably not.
I’ve met women who REALLY, REALLY LOVE kids; so long as they’re OTHER PEOPLES’ kids, who GO HOME after awhile, and leave the good woman’s house in peace., and quiet
Dr. James Dobson wasn’t on the wrong track when he titled one of his books, “Parenting Isn’t For Cowards”; it’s hella hard work, and it can be heartbreaking. All the more so in this deteriorating culture. For every shining Ealge Scout or Annapolis Graduate success story that hits the parental limelight there are a host of unheralded cases where parental hopes were dashed by the harsh reality that kids can — and too often, do — make ABYSMALLY STUPID choices.
I’ve got my church-raised youngest girls (13 & 10) already arguing with me about how many genders there really are; that DNA doesn’t trump this culture’s ever-fluid dictionary. It’s a terrifying prospect to realize the precipitous odds parent’s face trying to help kids navigate deadly waters; worse as the kids age, and parents’ hands are directly on the steering wheel less and less. Dobson was dead-on: parenting isn’t for cowards; it’s for 24/7/365 counter-cultural warriors, and it’s not everyone that’s got the strength or stamina, or the desire to gin it up. This ain’t a “PMA” book, out here; there were happy upbeat people who went down with Titanic. This ain’t “MacGyver”; there’s a high probability that you CAN’T pull off the save with the contents of your kitchen junk drawer. This ain’t Hollywood; the white hats are probably gonna take serious losses.
There is ZERO chance ever that I would condemn ANY woman seeking sterilization in the face of the grave trepidation besetting present-day parents. Parenting isn’t a walk in the park; it’s you working to help your kids escape alive from a light plane crash in the depths of the Amazon jungle, or perhaps from the remote, ice-blasted wastelands of the Northwest Territories, and it’s not Reality TV where there’s a crew out there somewhere standing by to save your bacon if you get into really dire straits.