Maybe baby

I’ve ranted a lot about evolution recently, and maybe that’s because I have babies on the mind. I got my coil out. Yes, my portal to the next generation has been unblocked and it’s become a dawning reality, rather than a definite no no. I can’t say it’s not a terrifying prospect, and I’m definitely not ready, with my hands full juggling two kids, a career I want to go somewhere, a dog, a husband and all the other people I like to keep happy, but three kids runs in my family, so whether my brain is engaging or not, and indeed my wallet come to that, my biology certainly is.

We are genetically predisposed to have babies, and girls will have them regardless of what government, their parents, society or the Daily Mail has to say about it. There are two hard facts to consider: 1. Males are genetically predisposed to find women more attractive in their fertile years. 2. Having babies  – and ageing – puts women at a significant disadvantage, whatever society may be doing to try to correct these evolutionary wrongs (which are not wrong, exactly, just the way the world conspires to get us to sproglidate at all.)

Women are stuck between a rock and a hard place when it comes to their biology. Do you have a baby whilst at your most attractive, youthful and least powerful? Many do, by throwing themselves on the mercy of an often more financially powerful, older man – I’m afraid to say I did, and that worked out okay, although it scuppered my career for ages and is socially frowned upon, for obvious reasons.

For those who rely on more than youth to recommend them, it’s possible to go out and gain financial power by forging a career at the expense of your biological attractiveness to a mate (age is a hard fact, I’m afraid), many of whom will be successful at procreating once or even twice, but find to hard to conceive several children, by sheer fact of their age. And, if we’re being honest – which you can rely on me to be, let’s face it, there are plenty of men who are not attracted to powerful women –  though being afraid of power is an obvious sign of weakness, as an aside.

The NHS levels the playing field to a point for those who struggle to conceive by leaving it too late (or, horrible though it may be to say out loud, getting too fat) but in much of the world, relying on science to mate past, to put too fine a point on it, your fertility sell by date, is the preserve of the rich who can afford IVF.  And by the way, my eggs, at 32, in an open market, if I would choose to sell them, wouldn’t be as valuable as they were in my 20s, so put that in your pipe and smoke it. And therein lies my issue. In this market, most women can’t reproduce with their best eggs because they can’t afford to.

In much of the world, poverty is a factor in having large families, with children seen as an insurance policy that protects you into old age – where multiple earnings are better than few. Girls start early and get on with it, their kids, if they’re lucky, providing them a crust after their husband pops it.

In the west, where debt is increasing and living wage employment opportunities on the decline, market forces have enabled two things to happen. State benefits enable those who can make do on low incomes supplemented by handouts to have kids. The rich are financially powerful enough to have status symbols families, and because of theses market forces, having children will be a pastime of the rich. The middle, who are scraping by on reduced incomes increasingly can not. And that there, is evolution in action.

In my industry- the meedya, I’m ashamed to say, and in London more generally, I am up against plenty of hungry career orientated people without children. Fewer children means lower overheads – and more time to dispense more freely, ie. they can work harder, for less money. Lower overheads – and more time – means higher disposable income. Higher disposable income means property prices rise. Which is why people with children traditionally move to the suburbs, where housing is generally cheaper. But commuting is becoming more expensive, meaning there is no safe haven for the ordinary person – especially as housing in the capital becomes a safe deposit for richer foreigners. The fewer kids people have, the more difficult it becomes for those who do, once you take socialism out of the question. The average number of children per person in this country is below replacement level. So much so good for David Attenborough’s one child policy – the environmental advantages to curbing population are myriad, and without question there are ethical questions around having large families these days.

We are filling the gaps with immigration – we need to, to keep the housing bubble buoyant, and the economy from stagnating – and the immigrants, often from poorer countries, with high birth rates, tend to have more children, which is what we’re seeing in the UK now.

Cut benefits, and those relying on subsidies to fund their procreation will be up shit creek without a paddle – and the market would see a correction in prices, but the people themselves would have to go to hell in a handcart if the handouts upon which they are relying are snatched away – as they inevitably need to be. Childhood poverty leads to social problems leads to crime, disorder, teenage pregnancy, riots, anarchy. It’s a vicious cycle, so how to unpick it, except by putting in controls about how much money people must earn before they are allowed to have kids? So much for democracy.

But how many can undo their genetic legacy which, above sense and sensibility, leads us to procreate?  Despite the fact that in the west- and increasinly in the east, as birth rates plummet and China hastily undoes its one child policy for fear of a population black hole- kids are no longer seen as cash cows for your old age (quite rightly) but as burdens who many of whom, because of on overheated housing market, student debt, internships and youth unemployment, you can’t shake off until well into adulthood.

I consider myself lucky to have been in a situation to procreate when I did but I also know how hard it was, and how utterly disempowered I felt as a mother of young children. So why on earth am I willing to do it again? Probably my biological impetus is undoing my reason.

And Jonah, Jonah, lovely difficult beautiful Jonah, who finally, finally got a report into his social difficulties which found him to be moderately Autistic, along with only 1 percent of the population, I would add to anyone – and there have been many – who brush aside his diagnosis with “oh well most men are on the spectrum” – they’re not, in fact) and likely to have communication problems all his life, though no doubt, beautiful as he is – and I am objective as well as seeing him through the rosy tinted eyes of a mother – a self-flagellating girl (for many are made to be people pleasers – Ava may be one of them) will be willing to lay down her perhaps it’s a fear that my genetic legacy stops with him that impels me on to number three?

For all it was hard and more than likely genetically predisposed, does that stop me, risk of sleep torture though there inevitably is, come baby on the spectrum or not?

What then? Is it because I want another chance? Maybe. It’s hard to unpick, lying most of it as it does below the level of overt consciousness.

Till then, it’s johnnies at dawn…but I know too many women who’ve suffered the heartbreak of failed pregnancies after their mid thirties, whether they look their age or not… however many women manage to successfully have babies into their forties, there are many, many more who don’t.

Sometimes, it’s hard to be a woman.