Implanting Embryos Versus Implanting Knowledge

I am the oldest of my two sisters and thirteen cousins. I grew up in a close family where my cousins were like siblings. As a result, there were always babies in my life. For as far back as I can remember I have been changing diapers, burping babies, putting babies to sleep, giving babies their bottles, bathing babies, and dressing babies. I adored every baby in my family, but most of all my sisters. They were "my babies" and this is how I introduced them to people. I loved nothing more than helping my mom take care of them. Luckily, they have no permanent damage from a three year old carrying them around the house or putting them in a doll carriage. When I was 13 I job shadowed a doctor and watched a birth because I wanted to become an obstetrician (I gave that up once I learned that obstetricians are also gynecologists!). I have been crocheting baby booties since I was 15.

Call it a biological clock, or societal conditioning, or a result of my upbringing, or a combination of all three. Whatever it is, babies turn me to mush. Bring a baby in the room and all of my cynical, jaded wit is transformed into something I don't recognize. I become one of those strange people who wants to see the tiny little baby toes and who changes her voice to sound like a cheerleader who just inhaled helium. It's pathetic but the babies seem entertained.

As much as I love babies thinking of having my own someday brings up all kinds of questions and concerns. When I turned 23, the age my mother was when she had me, I thanked her for not killing me. Hell, I can barely keep a plant alive let alone a tiny human that can't talk and is dependent upon you for EVERYTHING. A part of me worries that I will miss my chance to have kids. I worry about finding someone to have one with (though these days that's not crucial). I worry that between school and a career there just won't be a good time to have a baby. I also worry that I'm just not cut out to be a mom. I fear that I will be one of those workaholic parents who is scarce. How does one find the energy and patience to work all day and then come home exhausted to juice boxes and Barney?

Then I consider the joy of being around those little minds. Sure, my childhood wasn't all roses and puppy dogs. But looking back, I realize I had it good. My mother was exceptional at letting me explore the world and learn by doing things. When I was two we were living in Germany and our back porch was filled with planter boxes. My mom designated one of the boxes as "Christina's garden" and let me have the whole thing to myself. I collected rocks and pinecones for my garden and with the help of my mom planted flowers and watched them grow. She let me catch bugs and bring them in the house. We even kept a caterpillar and watched as it went into a cocoon and hatched as a butterfly. We made our own playdough. She let me spend hours reading books in trees. She didn't complain when I did science experiments in the kitchen. She even bought me a microscope for Christmas one year. She never once yelled at me for painting myself with mud or mixing together strange concoctions of leaves, twigs and rainwater in the backyard.

I think I owe it to my mom, to society, and to myself, to foster a love for learning among those little minds. Perhaps I won't get the chance to pass on my genetics but I know first-hand that genes aren't everything. I like to believe that crossing over did not occur when I was being created and that I am a product of only my mother's gametes. If that isn't true than the only thing I got from the XY DNA is a lack of serotonin and the eyesight of an 80 year old who has presbyopia, myopia, and multiple cataracts.

Passing on your genes is one thing, but passing on your knowledge is what really makes you immortal.

Can You Hear Me Now?

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am not quiet. In fact, I have a bit of a volume control problem. My voice tends to fluctuate from a bearly audible whisper directly to an enthusiastic shriek that carries across rooms and hallways; there is not much middle ground when it comes to my voice. The whisper and loud shriek are definitely not in equilibrium as the loud shriek is favored and more energetically stable. As a result, I don't have much trouble making myself heard. Much of the time when I think I am being quiet the whole room can hear me. And let's not even talk about what happens when you get me laughing!

If being heard was all about volume, matters would be simplified. However, as we are all aware, being heard is also about effectively communicating yourself. Of course we all find ourselves having communication breakdowns now and then but typically I am used to having my opinions heard, even respected. I currently find myself in a situation where I feel that I'm not being listened to and I don't like it! I am in a leadership role at school and while I get the impression that the faculty respect my opinions and ideas I don't feel that my fellow peer leaders are very receptive to what I have to say. I don't know how to make myself heard without sounding overbearing or bossy. It's not that I want everything done my way, I just want to know that my ideas are being considered instead of feeling like they are being shot down on the spot.

Since I am so in tune with issues that women in science or in leadership roles face, I fear that I am just extra sensitive. You know, when you study a certain subject intently and you start to see it everywhere? Well, I don't want that to happen here. I don't want to cry, "Oh, the boys won't listen to me!" But yet, when one of the guys repeated an idea I had to the head of our group it suddenly was accepted. Did he actually not hear me? Is it because I am new and I haven't proven myself yet? Is it because he doesn't like me? Am I intimidating?

I want to be heard and it's not just about me. It's about the other students that we are supposed to be leading. I care about what they think of us. I care that we present ourselves in an organized and enthusiastic manner so that we can inspire these students to get involved.

I want to be heard but I also want to make friends, not enemies.