What a day, and not just because it’s the extra day of Leap Year (although that is pretty neat when you think about it). It’s “what a day” because I’m still recovering from yesterday’s Tuesdays with M-Lori (our Creative Day zapped a lot of energy from me). And, quite honestly, I’m still basking in the words of support and congratulations from friends and family for the Dually Noted interview that published Wednesday on Sparkletopia (thanks, everyone). But it’s also “what a day” because I got a chance to go inside my head and explore some thoughts that have been bumping around in there for some time now.

I’m writing this blog not in the morning like I usually do but late in the afternoon. I spent my morning grocery shopping and then came home and immediately began baking and cooking. It’s something I do when I crave time to think but need to be active too. Sometimes if I sit and spend time just thinking, I become too self-absorbed in the process and I lose perspective of reality. Baking and cooking help keep my thinking real (with the added bonus of making my taste buds and tummy super happy).

All this thinking was triggered by something Lori said yesterday, which reminded me of something another friend of mine said the last time we got together for lunch, which reminded me of something Lori wrote in her blog a few weeks ago, which reminded me of comments I frequently hear women with kids make. So you can see why there was a lot of thinking and baking and cooking going on.

While having dinner together last night, Lori said, off the cuff and almost in passing, “I can’t believe how much closer I feel to nature now that I have a kid. Which is odd because I’ve always felt close to nature.”

And I’d have to agree with her, about her always having had a bond with nature. She’s what I would call a pragmatic tree hugger, fully endorsing the use of deodorant while embracing everything there is about the outdoors. She camps. She digs taking a boat out to the Channel Islands. She’s all for going on hikes and walking the beach. The Galapagos Islands is on her list of places to travel to. She thinks it’s totally awesome to see a sea lion bobbing in the ocean.

So I was as surprised as she was to hear her say that. In fact, I didn’t even know how to respond to her that didn’t sound, well, mean. Coming from any other person I would have shouted, “Oh give me a break, ya loser. Get over yourself. You don’t need to have a baby to feel closer to nature,” before swigging the last sip in my wine glass and storming out of the room. But I know Lori. She really isn’t a sappy romantic individual and I think I understood where she was coming from. I’ve always said that while I don’t want kids, I wouldn’t mind being pregnant. Many people are stunned to learn this about me. I have to admit that the idea of a human being growing in your belly is kind of cool. Even for someone like me who’s not at all interested in the end result. But I certainly wouldn’t put it up there as a necessity in order to fully experience life. It’s cool, it’s unique to being female, and it’s definitely natural, but those things are not limited to just giving birth.

And I don’t think Lori was implying that. That’s why I can still hang with her, because while becoming a mom, and probably more specifically giving birth, has raised a certain awareness in Lori, she’s never once said to me, “You don’t know what you’re missing.” She’s much more reserved than that about the whole baby thing and she even said so much in one of her blog entries: “Now that my DNA lives in a separate (and helpless) human being, this kind of tired makes me feel as if I finally have a purpose…and not in that ‘now I am complete as a woman’ kind of way, but in a much more subtle way.”

But for so many women I’ve encountered, especially ones who are befuddled when I say, “I choose to be childfree,” there is nothing subtle about how important having a baby is to being a woman. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that I’ll never truly experience love unless I have a child. Yes, I’ve been told that to my face. And by doing so these people are telling me that the love I have for my husband is fake, or, at best, an illusion. They are telling me that unless my niece and nephew come from my womb, there’s no possible way for me to love them as much as they love their child. “It’s not the same,” they’ll say. Apparently not. And boy do I feel sorry for their kids.

There have been other comments, from the religious (it is God’s will) to the practical (who will take care of you when you’re old?) to the worldly (there is no meaning to life unless you have a child). And the one from another friend who, upon discussing her desire to have a baby said, “I want to be an optimal woman.” Yep. Optimal.

There will be people who read this who totally agree with the above statements and that’s fine by me. If those are your reasons for having a baby, if that’s what gets you up in the morning, then have at ‘em. But don’t think that those of us who choose not to have children don’t have a destiny from God, haven’t found a purpose to life, and can’t figured out how to take care of ourselves when we get older.

For those who know Lori, you know she has a tendency to fly at 50,000 feet. She’s a big picture kind of gal. But for a brief second yesterday she came down to 10,000 and made her comment about nature before zooming back up to 50,000 feet and continuing our conversation about the presidential election. I can deal with that. Because I know that if I told her about the times I feel closest to nature, she probably say, “I know where you’re coming from.”