My biological clock is ticking for all the wrong reasons.

Most women my age are burning up with full-on baby fever. When you’re in your 30s, your baby making parts are supposed to be constantly screaming out: “Cook those eggs before they go bad!”

But all’s been quiet on my uterine front. I think babies are adorable. I just don’t want one of my own. I’d be lying if I said I never have doubts, though, especially when I consider all the amazing, special stuff I’m missing out on.

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