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Well, I remember being 36 and feeling like a combination of the writer and his girlfriend. I was 50% for having kids. We had been privileged DINKS for a long time and it was scary. We took the plunge (I actually can't remember now what the deciding factor was), had two beautiful children, and never looked back.
Yes, everything changes, yes, all hell breaks loose, yes, it's the hardest thing I've ever done. For me personally, two big things happened. 1) I matured into an adult. 2) I started having more fun than I'd ever had before in my pretty-damn-good life up to that point. When I thought of having children, I only imagined the drudgery, of which there is plenty. I was astounded--totally surprised--at the pure joy and great fun brought into my life by having kids in the house. They are now 13 and 16, and still give me lovely joy and fun every day, along with the required dose of teenaged angst.
Smarmy as its sounds, it is a humbling privilege to welcome another being into your heart and home and to do everything you know how to do (with plenty of mistakes and grief along the way) to help that being grow and learn.
This letter doesn't really fit into the discussion, but I related so much to the writer's dilemma and his girlfriend's doubts at 36 that I wanted to comment.
