For a couple of years now, if asked whether or not I want to have children, I’ve replied that I definitely thought I’d already have kids by now. I assumed I’d make them with my own body and the body of the person I’d want to spend the rest of my life with. I assumed a lot of things.
I turned 30. There is no one I’ll spend the rest of my life with. My distaste for the practice of making a baby has grown to the point where my approach of…
