I'll never have a child.

Tonight for some reason this statement keeps swirling in my head. It is particularly hard when faced with a lit Christmas tree with presents underneath. Presents for everyone else's kids, not mine. No new ornaments to hang proclaiming "Baby's First Christmas" and no baby with Santa picture to send to the relatives in the mail.

As each year passes it gets harder to keep hoping that I'll ever have my own child. The men I've dated are either totally useless or they are father's already and don't want the added responsibility now that they have child support garnished from their paycheck every week.

When I was younger I would always cringe when I heard woman saying that they just absolutely craved to have a baby. I used to think of myself as an ultra-modern woman who didn't need a man or baby to complete my life. I still believe that, in theory. In reality, I have become that same woman, with the ache in my belly and the void in my heart. I wish I could be like some of my girlfriends who are childless and completely satisfied with spoiling their nieces and nephews. I once confided to my single friend, Jill about my yearning and her reply was, "Lex, we are free to do anything we want without worrying about babysitters or daycare. We are fantastically independent women who can do anything we want. We don't answer to anyone but ourselves."

The problems I find with her statement is as follows:

Free to do what exactly? Run off to Spain to have a torrid affair with a young strapping man? Hello – I do have a job that takes up all of my time. I'm lucky if I get to travel to the Jersey Shore once during the summer.

We don't have to answer to anyone. Yeah, I can't argue with that. Besides my daily phone call to my mother there is really no one that I have to explain myself to. That's sound great. I can stay in my pajamas on Sunday and watch sappy movies and eat ice cream straight out of the carton. Wow – how rebellious.

The problem is that with no one to answer to means that there is no one waiting at home for me after a hard day. That will listen to me bitch and moan about my boss, rub my feet and maybe if I'm really lucky, give me an unforgettable knee trembler to make me forget all my problems of the day.

So, again I find myself back to my original statement. I'm never going to have a child. I think I just have to come to terms with the fact that my dream of having any children died with Joe eight years ago in a dark alley in Queens.

As most Catholics do, I've considered the prospect that I'm being punished. When Joe and I graduated the Police Academy we were both ambitious and very young. When I found out that I was pregnant shortly after graduation, we both weighed our options carefully. As much as we loved each other, the idea of having a child at twenty-two and just starting out in life was incredibly daunting. We were both still living at home saving up so we could get an apartment together. We had no savings and the salary back then for a rookie beat cop was disgraceful. We ultimately made the most difficult decision of our young lives and decided to terminate the pregnancy.

I remember Joe taking me to the clinic. Just like a hospital, there is that antiseptic sterile smell and the waiting room was filled with woman of all ages.

I could never understand how people can say that abortion is an easy way out. The woman I saw that day sitting next to me in the waiting room and laying in the bed next to me afterwards were all scared and you could tell the decision weighed heavy on them. For me, it remains to this day the most painful thing I've done. Ironically, it really was the best decision. Joe and I would have been horrible parents. We were too young and our marriage was highly volatile. We would fight so loud that the neighbors would bang on the walls to voice their complaints. Joe once ripped up my entire book collection when I forgot to call him to let him know I was going to be home late. In my immature mind, mixing peroxide into his special "man" shampoo was perfectly acceptable retaliation. Till this day I can hear him in my head bitching about how stupid he looked after having to get his head shaved.

See. What right did we have thinking we could raise a healthy, emotionally balanced child?

So as I said, the Catholic guilt has been hovering over me like a dark stain. Maybe this is why I'll never have the chance again. Of course I know logically that this is not the case. But when we are in pain it's so much easier to blame ourselves than to accept the harsh reality.

I've never told anyone about the abortion. Not even my mother who knows pretty much everything about me. How ironic that the person I finally told was the very man who made me want a child so desperately.

There is something about Robert Goren's eyes that makes a person reveal all of their innermost fears and secrets. Bobby said that God wouldn't punish someone like me in that way.

"Eames, of all the woman I've ever known, including my own mother, there would be no greater mother to a child than you."

The words he spoke had my eyes watering and my lips quivering. It was the most wonderful compliment anyone could ever say to me. When I asked him if he ever wanted children of his own he said he would love to have them but feared the genetic nightmare that was possible. He actually confessed to considering a vasectomy to eliminate the temptation. Thankfully, he never went through with the procedure.

I told him that it probably had something to do with sharp objects in close proximity to his balls that kept him from pursuing this option. He rewarded me with a laugh and lightened our mood.

I couldn't let it go unsaid to Bobby that I truly believed he would be a phenomenal parent. I said that he had too much heart and knowledge to not share it with someone. Particularly a child, that needs love and guidance growing up.

I can remember with perfect clarity the sensation of Bobby's hand gripping mine as he thanked me for saying those words.

Maybe one day soon, before it's too late, I can somehow gather up the courage to convince Bobby to take that giant leap with me.

Author's Note: This is not a political statement in any way. Review me please. Pretty Please.