I’m a worrier. Sometimes I lie motionless in a full-on horizontal couch coma, mentally rehearsing an endless chain of potential future catastrophes while “Next episode playing in 5…4…3…2…1…” silently ticks on my TV screen. It sounds dramatic, but I like to think that when I worry, I’m just preparing for life. I research. I think. My favorite question is “Why?”My worry du jour regards what I see as the biggest thing anyone can do during their little stint on earth: having a child. And I worry because you moms make it sound so freaking horrible.I’ve been avoiding pregnancy for my entire life, but suddenly, my peers and I are into our 30s, and many friends are trading their starter homes for mini McMansions to fill with children. Naturally, that means I keep getting asked, “So, when are you having one?” Babies are the next step in real adulting, after all.I’ve always thought I’d have a kid one day, but on my last birthday (31), the deadline started to get real. If I want my final kid before 35 (you know, to avoid the curse of “advanced maternal age”), and want to have the recommended two years between little Addy's and Anton’s conceptions, then I have to start having unprotected sex with my husband around my next birthday.Being the angst-ridden planner that I am, I started googling important questions like “How to know if you’re ready for a baby?” which avalanched into “How to ward off post-postpartum depression.” Slowly, I uncovered a toxic treasure trove of negative mom bloggers, scary mommies, do-it-all working moms, and lots of details chronicling the secret fact that the first months (years?) of motherhood are like going through hell on earth.Bloggy gurus tell me motherhood is a self-deprecating wait for the weekend. One mom literally counts down the hours until her kids are in bed. I’ve been informed that moms’ souls and identities slowly die while herding crabby kids, until in about 12 years when said cute crab is traded down for an “I hate you, Mom” tween. I’ll never sleep again. I’ll have a worse relationship with my husband. And let’s not discount the cool quarter mil kids cost. Each.So basically, all I hear are stories upon stories of depression and stressful breast-feeding and losing your identity and teething on your nipples and misery and what if your kid has a health problem and what if your stomach never looks like it did before and how not to become an unshowered zombie. Why do people treat having a baby like something horrible happened?At the same time, these blogs make it seem like those who are not ready to sign up for an all-sacrificing optional duty are simply immature. But how can I be so eager to give up so much for someone who doesn’t even exist? Especially when you moms make it sound so unappealing?