Kids, that is. 

And, yes, that is the question.

It's a heavy, looming, invasive question. The answer, a simple yes or a simple no, but a syllable unfathomably complicated in context and consequence.

Sometimes I like the idea of kids. When I see the Mr. with a nephew. When I cuddle the same. When I hear a name I like, see a stroller I'd push, or a baby wrap I'd wear. Sometimes I feel the fit. When I realize how much I know about attachment and emotion and brain development. When I'm told how much I have to give. When I catch myself so delighted by a two-year-old's discovery or a 17-year-old's confidence. When I see a couple going about adventure and intimacy with a smiling kid in tow. Sometimes, I think I should HAVE.

But, sometimes I don't like the idea. When I see woman after woman disappear into nap schedules and momma drama. When I see a trip overseas exchanged for a new four-door car. When I realize I wouldn't be able to ride regular on a motorcycle for a long while. When I read in research how even the best nurturing and discipline doesn't fix what's broken in DNA. When I hear a song and note that the pull to carefree is still so strong, unsettled, and wanting to be satisfied. When I see what's now normal (scary) in the world and cringe at the emerging repercussions. Sometimes I think I should NOT.

Sometimes, I REALLY don't like the idea. Like, when I'm sitting grateful for the comfortable and delightful dynamic I have with my husband. In those moments, I think a kid would kill it ... and I revolt against the idea of parenthood.

Sometimes, I REALLY like the idea. Like, when I'm sitting in the middle of a family gathering, watching a 10-minute video montage of a nephew's life thus far. In those moments, I see how a kid could enhance a life ... and I smile at the idea of that experience.

So, to have or not to have?

I don't know. But, dang, if it doesn't feel like the ONLY question that matters these days. Sometimes, I wish the question felt less looming and invasive. Sometimes, I think it's a stupid, socially-forced question, not worthy of my time. Most of the time, I think it's really a presumptuous question — ridiculous to even think I have any control over God's creation (or not) of another human being.

But, at almost 34 years of age, it's still THE question bouncing around my head. And I ain't got no answers. :)