I should have known when I hit 30 that it would start. In fact, given that my own mother handed me that scary New York magazine cover story about freezing your eggs—you know, just in case — I should have expected it a lot sooner.
Still, considering the place that Navdeep and I are in at this moment in time, the floaty, fleeting nature of both our careers, trying to establish ourselves as writers and get published, and even just trying to figure out which coast to live on, I was hardly ready for it.
No, I’m not pregnant. But it seems like everyone around me has babies on the brain. Navdeep may not have noticed it, but while we were traveling in India, meeting new relatives, the question came up a lot. We’ve been married for about a year-and-a-half now, and by Indian standards, that’s plenty of alone time. People just didn’t seem to grasp what we’re waiting for.
Sometimes I wonder, too. After all, the proverbial clock is ticking away. And you always hear people say that there will never be a right time. But there is a such thing as a very wrong time, isn’t there?
