all my children.

A circumstance I often find myself in is that of accounting for the major decisions of my adult life, or, more specifically, justifying why I don't have kids. This is most often to people who have kids, and to people who don't have kids and are also relieved not to have them yet, or ever. Because people who have kids (and zero contact with my career trajectory and higher education in general) haven't always held my achievements (which I am very vain about, in spite of their modesty) in equal esteem (and because baby showers and weddings present a particular kind of torment), I present them in terms they can understand:


My first child is 7 years old. Its name is Associates Degree. Boy did I do a lot of growing up with that first baby.


My second child is 5 years old.  Its name is Bachelors Degree. I really came to know who I was with that with that one, though I was still just a child myself. Like my first child, my second child was an easy baby.


Because I am pro-choice, my third pregnancy, A Demoralizing Job in Corporate America, was hastily aborted four years ago.


My third child is 2 years old. Its name is Masters Degree. I thought that one would kill me-- it had all kinds of complications. The doctor who helped me birth it seemed like a real jerk. In the end it came out fine, but let's be real, you can't expect that much from middle children and I totally get why some people choose just to have one child or none at all.


I'm pregnant with my fourth child. I'm hoping it's a PhD, but I'm not far enough along to find out yet. Like most people with four children, I will probably end up totally broke. I wish people would stop asking me when my due date is.