More from the "What-if" chronicles...

This week marks 11 years since I packed up all my worldly possessions and lugged them, my cat and myself, 2000 miles across the country to start a new life. As much as the "what-ifs" annoy me, they also provide hours of contemplative amusement. When I pulled into town over a decade ago, it was with an open mind and a hungry soul. My best friend had driven the U-haul behind me and stayed a few days to get me settled in before flying back east. We were a couple of carefree 22-year olds, making what was a somewhat bittersweet trip as exciting and fun as possible. (Doesn't everyone almost get arrested in Kansas??) After she boarded the plane to fly back home, reality hit as I realized I didn't even know how to get back to my new apartment from the airport. I burst into tears and although I found my way after an hour or so, my excitement had already morphed into fear, trepidation and regret. "What the hell was I thinking moving so far away from everything I've ever known?" Obviously, as the days went by and I became more comfortable with my new surroundings, I perked up. But that is a lot of stress to put on ones' body and mine reacted accordingly. Before I'd left home, I had sowed a few last minute oats in the spirit of closing that chapter of my life. One particular Oat and I had a condom-related mishap. It took me 2 weeks of settling into my new life to realize I was 2 weeks past due for a rather important monthly occurrence. Panic set in and I booked down to Walgreens to purchase my first ever pregnancy test. Clearly everything was fine and my life went on to become what it is, but waiting for that pee stick to show me a 'minus' sign was quite possibly the most intense 60 seconds of my life. When I look back now and play the "what-if" game, it is almost unfathomable that if it had been a 'plus' sign instead, I'd be sitting here next to a 10-year old child. How different would the last decade have been? Would I have met and fallen in love with either of my exes? Would I have gotten right back into that U-haul and returned home to deal with it there? The possibilities are endless. Not to mention, would I have told the father? I saw him recently at a wedding for the first time in 8 years and he has since married and had 2 or 3 kids with his wife... how different would his life be if I'd had to make that epic phone call?

Lately, much to my utter shock and chagrin, I've wondered if maybe I do want kids, or at least kid. I seem to have these nurturing instincts I don't really know what to do with. Don't get me wrong, when I hear children screaming at work I want to bang my head into the wall, but then they stop screaming and I look at their cherubic little faces and think "Hmm. Maybe." I'm clearly in no place to be seriously considering this, but the prospect no longer terrifies me to my core. I'd call that progress.