This is unlike you.

I have set up my camp in the main lobby of Magee Women’s Hospital. There’s a padded bench built into a fountain in an out of the way corner. The fountain has a small waterfall and a bronze statue of a young girl holding a vessel and walking stick. My backpack is providing the support so that I may recline and be comfortable. The large book I’m attempting to read, The Fountainhead, rests at my feet for a moment and my trusty Blackberry balances on my leg. Below it, there is a restaurant style paging device that will tell me when it is my turn to go strip out of my clothing and put on a piece of paper and wait some more for my pelvis to be slathered in goo and the device pressed around looking for my IUD. I’m starting to think this isn’t worth it.

All around me are people in various stages of what this hospital is known for, making babies or the people that assist in the process. I used to not like pregnant women because they weirded me out. They were pods for a tiny growing being inside of them. It all sounded so alien, so gross. I’ve always hated people in love because if I noticed them, it meant I wasn’t one of them. The idea of getting married and having a baby just wasn’t a story that I needed to be mine. It didn’t sound like it had enough adventure and risk and passion for life.

Yet, here I am, months away from my 30^th birthday, looking forward to an open field. The whole world is still I front of me for the taking but now my eyes see down the street at the house for sale. The simple truth is that a year ago I decided I wanted to find my partner and settle down and yes, have a baby. It seems ridicules that the fingers that are typing this are the same ones that have written over and over how this life wasn’t for me.

Now this view is what I want and it seems more unlikely than ever before. It feels like life is punching me in my face repeatedly and laughing. I could have had this life, I could have had it all, but I was stubborn and head strong and I screwed it all up. Did I miss my chance?

And if I seem to have another chance, will I evaluate that objectively or will I rush towards it because that must surely be last chance?

These are the things that worry me these days. My age. My future. What I really want.

Yes, sitting in a waiting room ruined my day. But it’s only because I’m thinking and thinking ruins my day.