A point parents like to point out is that the childfree will presumably have no one to take care of them when they’re older. My husband and I are taking precautions for this, starting our retirement savings early, and we plan to get long-term care insurance and whatnot, but it’s been frighteningly prevalent in the lives of my friends in the last couple weeks, as well as my own.
My father lost his job in August with a measly 2-week severance, which devastated my family. When it first happened, I rushed to loan them $3000 to cover their mortgage and expenses while they figured out what to do. They cashed in their retirement and have watched as my dad went from interview to interview in his very specialized field and was the second choice five times in a row. After a lifetime of smoking and drinking, he’s 56 going on 65, and my mother and I suspect it’s his ill health that’s led the employers to choose the other top candidate. They’ve used up most of their sad little retirement account paying off debt and are now looking at potentially losing their house.
My brother, a single father, is trying to make his life work for the first time in his life. Newly employed full-time and insured, he promptly set about breaking his wrist in a fall on the ice and is faced with two months out of work and losing his new apartment that he shares with my niece.
Add this to my recent layoff and, while I’m optimistic about my own situation, the gods have not been smiling upon my family lately.
I’m in a position where I have to look at how much help I can give to my parents. My husband and I are looking to buy a house before health issues force our frail old landlady into selling or worse, so we need to keep an eye on our own finances. I’m feeling horrible guilt about making my parents pay back the loan we gave them, but it came from my husband’s student loan and now we need it to pay his tuition for the Spring semester. It’s all very complicated and it’s killing me that I can’t help them financially without plunging us into the financial ruin that they’re all suffering from. I’m focusing on moral support and doing what I can – buying my mom some business books as she explores starting a home business, school clothes and supplies for my niece, loaning my brother his rent while he’s out of work with the expectation that he will pay me back when he gets his tax refund. But it’s a lot to take, and compared to some of my friends lately, I’ve got it easy.
Marlene’s father and my dad might be the same person, although her dad is more extreme and has a couple of years on mine. This terrifies me more than I can express. She’s in the unenviable position right now of caring for her very ill and incontinent father, whom she despises because of his years of abuse and alcoholism, for fear of being brought up on neglect charges by social services. She went from not speaking to him for years to being his in-home caregiver because she and her partner can’t afford to pay for caregivers. Every day she wishes she could just walk out, but because her father knows she can’t he abuses the privilege and threatens to call social services. Recently she and her partner bought a home, and now she’s on a leave of absence from work and facing real financial problems because her parents simply relied upon her to save them when she grew up. I look at what she’s dealing with, with parents about 10 years older than mine, and fear completely that it is what I, the financially responsible one, will be required to do if my father falls ill.
Almost a year ago to the day my friend Elena’s father passed away a couple weeks ago, he was given a year to live with a brain tumor. Her mother had been suffering mildly from dementia before he became ill and faded into the background as the family rallied around dad. Now that he’s gone, her mother has gone crazy. She lost her job because of her mental illness and now Elena, married only 5 years with a 3-year-old son, is facing buying a house her family can’t really afford so that her mother can move in with them. There’s simply no other choice; she’s her daughter and this is what daughters do.
It wouldn’t be so terrible if it were just a matter of her mother moving in, but her paranoia is out of control. Even Elena’s young son has started having nightmares and being scared of people who are coming through the windows, the front door, the closet, to steal him. They can’t leave him alone with Grandma, and it’s starting to seem that it’s unhealthy for him to even be around her because her paranoia is scaring him, and they don't know what else might be wrong in her brain. Plus, Grandma refuses to believe that Grandpa is gone and keeps confusing the child, who is having a hard enough time processing the concept of death. “My life is over. I’m not even 30 and my life is over,” Elena said to me. I was speechless. It’s such an impossible situation, and impossible choice to make. I didn’t know what to say to her except give her a hug.
Elena and Marlene’s parents are fortunate that their kids are there for them despite the unpleasantness. But no one would blame them if they said “I can’t handle this” and left their parents to their own devices, their situations are so terrible. I look at my own family and wonder where my limits will be; will I be willing to help my mom but not my father? How do you reconcile that? It was never a secret that Marlene didn’t get along with her dad, resented his drinking and the way he treated her mother, and instead of looking at the situation and seeing her as the saint that she is he makes accusations and makes her stay out of guilt. Even though I blame my dad’s health on his poor choices, could I ever not take care of him? I don’t think so, and I honestly can’t decide if that is guilt or love.
I don’t ever want someone to give up their life to care for me out of guilt. I never want to look at a person and think “I had you so you could take care of me when I’m old.”
My husband and I joke about driving off a cliff together when one of us gets very ill, but we know that’s not a likely scenario. I have such conflict about what my friends are going through, knowing that someday my parents will get older, and that one day my husband and I will get older. I think about how fortunate my parents are that they did many things right and have two kids who would take care of them, however reluctantly at times. (But seriously, how can it NOT be reluctantly?) And I do wonder about us not having that. I worry about it. A lot.
Especially in light of the recent goings on, it’s perhaps the most compelling argument for procreating I’ve seen. It’s not a good enough reason and it’s not the right reason, but it’s on my mind hardcore.
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Risky Business
I kind of had an inkling something was up on Monday evening when I got the e-mail to convene for breakfast at the Sears Tower, just a couple blocks from my office, for a mandatory meeting. It also concerned me that we weren’t all invited. And while expected them plying us with sweets was the precursor to bad news, I didn’t expect them to tell all 175 of us that we were being laid off. It wasn’t immediate – even the earliest layoffs aren’t occurring ‘til April – but damaging enough. And while I feel confident that I’ll land on my feet, especially since I was ready to move on from this job anyway, there are others I worry about.
One friend at work has a new baby at home. His wife quit her job on the previous Friday to stay at home with their son. Others have large families, many are the primary breadwinner. Some of us are fortunate that a number of jobs are open in our fields, while others have been here so long, their duties so diverse, that they’re even not really sure what they do. It’s great that there’s time for people to find new things, but it’s still devastating for many.
I’m sad to leave this place, however, because it’s the only place I’ve worked where not having kids didn’t matter. Maybe it’s because it’s downtown Chicago, where people are more open-minded and more likely to know others like me (or to also be childfree), but I don’t have people using the fact that I don’t have kids as a reason to make ME work the extra hours, or to have ME give up time. I’m asked to do it, but it’s never because my life doesn’t matter as much as others’.
That’s not to say it’s not stressful. I am not only the primary breadwinner, I am the sole breadwinner, plus my husband’s student loan debt is piling up. Ironically, I took this job (after freelancing full-time for a year) for the stability, so that I knew we'd have insurance and stable income while he was in school. SURPRISE! I feel like we need to apply for his loan for next year NOW, while I’m employed, just in case I can’t find anything. My father has been unemployed for nearly 6 months, the former VP of Engineering going from making that sort of salary to nothing, and my folks are facing the loss of their home because they can’t seem to sell it in this market. My brother, who FINALLY moved into his own apartment with his daughter and got a real, full-time job, just broke his hand severely and is faced with losing HIS job. It’s a very real possibility that I will be asked to help them out, and that terrifies me. Plus, we’re entering a recession that, if trends are the same as they were when recession hit in 2000/2001, will mean graphic design jobs will dry up completely and start paying much less. I don’t want to find a job in an employers’ market. I need a job NOW.
But, when it comes down to it, I know we’ll be fine. Our expenses are low enough, and we’ve been able to save enough over the last few years that we’ll be okay. I look at the situation and wonder how much it would change if we added a kid to the equation. We’d need so much more saved in an emergency fund, if it comes down to being unemployed the insurance would be so much higher. And then I wondered, would my husband have even been able to go back to school full-time, with me supporting us both?
His decision to go back to school is going to mean so many opportunities for us. It will open great doors for his career and is a necessary step for us to reach the goals we have. We’ve been together 5 years… what if, in that time, we’d had a child? We’d never be able to afford to take this risk, to go to one income, to incur a great deal of debt while risking our insurance and our livelihoods on my income. Would I have been able to move up as I have in my career, or to move up more where I can carry us both? Can you imagine the additional costs, childcare and more, that a child would add to the equation? I can’t. There’s a great potential that we would be stuck in that situation, with my career plateauing because of a newfound aversion to the risks that have taken me this far and will certainly take me further. It would take my husband years to finish school part-time, if he even found the motivation (he’s a full-time student kind of guy; it’s just his personality), it would take him years, and his degree wouldn’t mean as much as it does from the great program he’s in right now. It’s staggering.
It’s no surprise that a child doesn’t fit into our lifestyle at this point, but I look to the future and just can’t see us settling to a point where we would want to be parents. I know, even with this layoff and future layoffs that we’ll surely face in our careers, that we can provide for ourselves. I’m a big risk-taker, but a child’s effect on that aspect of my personality is an interesting paradox. Is a child too big a risk for me to handle, or do I simply not want to have a child because I’ll no longer want to be a risk-taker?
One friend at work has a new baby at home. His wife quit her job on the previous Friday to stay at home with their son. Others have large families, many are the primary breadwinner. Some of us are fortunate that a number of jobs are open in our fields, while others have been here so long, their duties so diverse, that they’re even not really sure what they do. It’s great that there’s time for people to find new things, but it’s still devastating for many.
I’m sad to leave this place, however, because it’s the only place I’ve worked where not having kids didn’t matter. Maybe it’s because it’s downtown Chicago, where people are more open-minded and more likely to know others like me (or to also be childfree), but I don’t have people using the fact that I don’t have kids as a reason to make ME work the extra hours, or to have ME give up time. I’m asked to do it, but it’s never because my life doesn’t matter as much as others’.
That’s not to say it’s not stressful. I am not only the primary breadwinner, I am the sole breadwinner, plus my husband’s student loan debt is piling up. Ironically, I took this job (after freelancing full-time for a year) for the stability, so that I knew we'd have insurance and stable income while he was in school. SURPRISE! I feel like we need to apply for his loan for next year NOW, while I’m employed, just in case I can’t find anything. My father has been unemployed for nearly 6 months, the former VP of Engineering going from making that sort of salary to nothing, and my folks are facing the loss of their home because they can’t seem to sell it in this market. My brother, who FINALLY moved into his own apartment with his daughter and got a real, full-time job, just broke his hand severely and is faced with losing HIS job. It’s a very real possibility that I will be asked to help them out, and that terrifies me. Plus, we’re entering a recession that, if trends are the same as they were when recession hit in 2000/2001, will mean graphic design jobs will dry up completely and start paying much less. I don’t want to find a job in an employers’ market. I need a job NOW.
But, when it comes down to it, I know we’ll be fine. Our expenses are low enough, and we’ve been able to save enough over the last few years that we’ll be okay. I look at the situation and wonder how much it would change if we added a kid to the equation. We’d need so much more saved in an emergency fund, if it comes down to being unemployed the insurance would be so much higher. And then I wondered, would my husband have even been able to go back to school full-time, with me supporting us both?
His decision to go back to school is going to mean so many opportunities for us. It will open great doors for his career and is a necessary step for us to reach the goals we have. We’ve been together 5 years… what if, in that time, we’d had a child? We’d never be able to afford to take this risk, to go to one income, to incur a great deal of debt while risking our insurance and our livelihoods on my income. Would I have been able to move up as I have in my career, or to move up more where I can carry us both? Can you imagine the additional costs, childcare and more, that a child would add to the equation? I can’t. There’s a great potential that we would be stuck in that situation, with my career plateauing because of a newfound aversion to the risks that have taken me this far and will certainly take me further. It would take my husband years to finish school part-time, if he even found the motivation (he’s a full-time student kind of guy; it’s just his personality), it would take him years, and his degree wouldn’t mean as much as it does from the great program he’s in right now. It’s staggering.
It’s no surprise that a child doesn’t fit into our lifestyle at this point, but I look to the future and just can’t see us settling to a point where we would want to be parents. I know, even with this layoff and future layoffs that we’ll surely face in our careers, that we can provide for ourselves. I’m a big risk-taker, but a child’s effect on that aspect of my personality is an interesting paradox. Is a child too big a risk for me to handle, or do I simply not want to have a child because I’ll no longer want to be a risk-taker?
Monday, January 14, 2008
Step away from the boobies
I could write quite a sizable list of the weirdness of on of one particular family that stayed at the retreat we stayed at in Ek Balam, Mexico. They seemed to forget they weren’t in their own backyard, letting their toddler (she looked about 3 or 4) run around the place naked. This made both my husband and me extremely uncomfortable and we were one instance away from a confrontation before they left. The worst of their offenses was at dinner, when the toddler latched onto mommy’s breast. TODDLER. I’m sorry, if your child is walking around and talking to me, they have no business sucking on your teets, especially at the friggin’ group dining table.
I actually don’t have a problem with public breastfeeding. I have an issue with the women who are “HEY, look at my BOOBS because it’s NATURAL” about it -- because seriously, there's a reason we wear clothing and undergarments and nobody needs to see that -- but discreet public breastfeeding doesn’t usually bug me. The idea of breastfeeding in general creeps me out like little else, but not so much that I’m offended. But this was just plain CREEPY.
What the hell is a three-year-old (at least) getting out of breast-feeding? This was in addition to eating the yummy vegetarian goodies cooked by the kitchen at the retreat, so it’s not like it was all the kid was eating. She had teeth, after all, so clearly she needs more than what this tiny woman’s boobs could pump out.
It was seriously horrifying to me.
I actually don’t have a problem with public breastfeeding. I have an issue with the women who are “HEY, look at my BOOBS because it’s NATURAL” about it -- because seriously, there's a reason we wear clothing and undergarments and nobody needs to see that -- but discreet public breastfeeding doesn’t usually bug me. The idea of breastfeeding in general creeps me out like little else, but not so much that I’m offended. But this was just plain CREEPY.
What the hell is a three-year-old (at least) getting out of breast-feeding? This was in addition to eating the yummy vegetarian goodies cooked by the kitchen at the retreat, so it’s not like it was all the kid was eating. She had teeth, after all, so clearly she needs more than what this tiny woman’s boobs could pump out.
It was seriously horrifying to me.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Traveling Light
It seemed to me, as my husband and I wandered around Disneyland Chichen Itza on our recent trip to the Yucatan, among the families with kids more interested in taking photographs of themselves making silly faces than actually caring about where the were, what happened there, that they were standing among structures built thousands of years ago, some of the most ancient and certainly the most magnificent structures that exist on our continent… I wondered if the kids would remember the trip fondly, or if, the moment they got bored (and they ALL got bored) if the experience would be colored as a great big “not much” in their minds. Granted a great many of the adults (mostly American it seemed) also wandered the site rather aimlessly, never reading the little plaques that explained the structures, never really looking at anything except the main pyramid. Perhaps my husband and I are just pompous in thinking that we appreciate historical and culturally significant sites more than the average bear, but it made me wonder why people bring their kids to sites like that. I mean, of course they want to see them themselves and have these grand ideas about instilling a love of history in their kids, but for the most part the parents looked irritated that they couldn’t explore as they wanted to, or like they just wanted a moment of silence, to experience the place serenely. Indeed, when the tour buses left-- and with them most of the families and many of the merchants-- the place got ten times, maybe a hundred times more magical.
It makes me understand why parents like places like Disney World so much. It’s like automatic engagement. You don’t have to worry about entertaining your kids; it’s simply a function of the location. But in Mexico, time and again we saw families with bored kids (or kids playing their Nintendo DS while sitting on 12th century ruins), and frustrated parents who just wanted a moment to appreciate where they were without being asked when they could go swimming again.
There was one exception, a Canadian family with teenagers that stayed at our retreat. A Mayan language class was held to get us closer to the Mayan culture and the kids just ate it up. Again, it’s kids like these that make me think, sometimes, that raising kids might not be all bad (again, if you got lucky enough to get a good one). The boy, 16, had a natural aptitude for language acquisition and was asking all the right questions. It was remarkable! He and his 15-year-old sister were very mature and very friendly, unlike the sobbing toddlers and whiny pre-teens who passed through the retreat over the course of the week. These were kids who got it, who appreciated where they were, the opportunities to learn and the good fortune they had to be traveling through Mexico on their winter break. It was a site so rare.
A woman I work with was extremely jealous of my trip. “Before I had kids I traveled all over the world, I lived overseas for awhile and I loved it.” Her voice then kind of broke, filled with what sounded like regret. “I really, REALLY miss it.” Of course she loves her kids, but no one thinks about that kind of regret when they ask us, the childfree, if we’re going to regret not having children. Y’know what, maybe we will, but we won’t regret not seeing the world the way we wanted to, or not having enough time for each other. Life is full of choices and regrets, and our choice to travel fulfills in a way children would not.
The mere fact that children would have made it impossible for us to take this trip to the Yucatan, compelling us to stay in a more “comfortable” hotel (read: one with a TV) rather than the eco-lodge that bored the tears out of the kids who stayed there with us, pressuring us to skip the cultural tours of the villages in favor of more swimming in the pools… we may have taken the trip, if we could have even afforded to fly as a family, but it would have been completely different, filled with something other than the magic we felt while we were there. Traveling as a couple suits us, and we eagerly look forward to our next trip: to London to visit a friend who’s taken an assignment there, and off to Budapest, Hungary, the home of my own ancestors.
It makes me understand why parents like places like Disney World so much. It’s like automatic engagement. You don’t have to worry about entertaining your kids; it’s simply a function of the location. But in Mexico, time and again we saw families with bored kids (or kids playing their Nintendo DS while sitting on 12th century ruins), and frustrated parents who just wanted a moment to appreciate where they were without being asked when they could go swimming again.
There was one exception, a Canadian family with teenagers that stayed at our retreat. A Mayan language class was held to get us closer to the Mayan culture and the kids just ate it up. Again, it’s kids like these that make me think, sometimes, that raising kids might not be all bad (again, if you got lucky enough to get a good one). The boy, 16, had a natural aptitude for language acquisition and was asking all the right questions. It was remarkable! He and his 15-year-old sister were very mature and very friendly, unlike the sobbing toddlers and whiny pre-teens who passed through the retreat over the course of the week. These were kids who got it, who appreciated where they were, the opportunities to learn and the good fortune they had to be traveling through Mexico on their winter break. It was a site so rare.
A woman I work with was extremely jealous of my trip. “Before I had kids I traveled all over the world, I lived overseas for awhile and I loved it.” Her voice then kind of broke, filled with what sounded like regret. “I really, REALLY miss it.” Of course she loves her kids, but no one thinks about that kind of regret when they ask us, the childfree, if we’re going to regret not having children. Y’know what, maybe we will, but we won’t regret not seeing the world the way we wanted to, or not having enough time for each other. Life is full of choices and regrets, and our choice to travel fulfills in a way children would not.
The mere fact that children would have made it impossible for us to take this trip to the Yucatan, compelling us to stay in a more “comfortable” hotel (read: one with a TV) rather than the eco-lodge that bored the tears out of the kids who stayed there with us, pressuring us to skip the cultural tours of the villages in favor of more swimming in the pools… we may have taken the trip, if we could have even afforded to fly as a family, but it would have been completely different, filled with something other than the magic we felt while we were there. Traveling as a couple suits us, and we eagerly look forward to our next trip: to London to visit a friend who’s taken an assignment there, and off to Budapest, Hungary, the home of my own ancestors.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
The best policy
One of my closest friends claims to be childfree. Her boyfriend of three years fathered a child as a teenager and had a terrible experience – as I understand it, the parents of the girl refused to let him be a part of the child’s life, and now he’s got a 10-year-old who doesn’t know him. The family ignores his existence, though he notifies them every time he moves in case they or the child wants to find him. It’s a crappy situation, though. He’s also a bit of a playboy, a character trait that I don’t appreciate in him because it’s not at all what my friend needs, even though I consider him a dear friend as well. He could be a great boyfriend… to someone else. Someone who doesn’t want kids and is open to an open or poly relationship.
So anyway, she claims to be childfree. Career-centered in a high-powered job, making money that my husband and I will likely never see, she claims she doesn’t care about kids and would rather a life without them. But I could tell her heart wasn’t in her words. I recently brought it up to a mutual friend who confirmed my suspicions.
She desperately wants a baby. She desperately wants to get married. But she’s invested so much time, money, and emotion in this relationship that she doesn’t know what to do. She’s 33 and at a crossroads where she needs to decide what she wants from life, because her career as it is today and raising a child as she wants to are mutually exclusive.
I wonder at times why she isn’t honest with me. Because I can’t relate? I suppose. Because my husband and her boyfriend have talked about getting vasectomies at the same time and having a big party? Maybe. But mostly I think it’s because she’s trying to convince herself.
It’s not that she doesn’t find a childfree life unappealing. She has the money to travel, the career that takes her to the most amazing places. She loves the city life and knows that the white picket fence that she dreams about doesn’t really suit her personality, and yet she wants it so badly sometimes.
But she’s stuck with this guy, this guy with a great heart who’s just so not right for her and who, at times, I think feels as trapped as she does in the relationship.
I want to talk to her about it, but I don’t know what to say. I want to tell her I can tell she’s not childfree in her heart, that maybe she needs to take some time to decide if it’s just biology having its way with her or if she really does want to slow her life down and raise a child. She deserves someone who’s better for her than who she’s got now, someone who will give her more than “If you want me to marry you I’ll marry you.” He loves her dearly and I don’t doubt that, but they won’t be happy. If he gets this vasectomy I know she’ll resent him for it. I want her to know that it’s okay to want a baby, and to want more.
Ultimately, she's in control of her own fate and needs to be honest with her boyfriend. Sometimes I wonder if she just needs somebody to confirm that it's okay to be conflicted about his vasectomy, and that if she really wants to have biological children with him, then she needs to speak up now.
So anyway, she claims to be childfree. Career-centered in a high-powered job, making money that my husband and I will likely never see, she claims she doesn’t care about kids and would rather a life without them. But I could tell her heart wasn’t in her words. I recently brought it up to a mutual friend who confirmed my suspicions.
She desperately wants a baby. She desperately wants to get married. But she’s invested so much time, money, and emotion in this relationship that she doesn’t know what to do. She’s 33 and at a crossroads where she needs to decide what she wants from life, because her career as it is today and raising a child as she wants to are mutually exclusive.
I wonder at times why she isn’t honest with me. Because I can’t relate? I suppose. Because my husband and her boyfriend have talked about getting vasectomies at the same time and having a big party? Maybe. But mostly I think it’s because she’s trying to convince herself.
It’s not that she doesn’t find a childfree life unappealing. She has the money to travel, the career that takes her to the most amazing places. She loves the city life and knows that the white picket fence that she dreams about doesn’t really suit her personality, and yet she wants it so badly sometimes.
But she’s stuck with this guy, this guy with a great heart who’s just so not right for her and who, at times, I think feels as trapped as she does in the relationship.
I want to talk to her about it, but I don’t know what to say. I want to tell her I can tell she’s not childfree in her heart, that maybe she needs to take some time to decide if it’s just biology having its way with her or if she really does want to slow her life down and raise a child. She deserves someone who’s better for her than who she’s got now, someone who will give her more than “If you want me to marry you I’ll marry you.” He loves her dearly and I don’t doubt that, but they won’t be happy. If he gets this vasectomy I know she’ll resent him for it. I want her to know that it’s okay to want a baby, and to want more.
Ultimately, she's in control of her own fate and needs to be honest with her boyfriend. Sometimes I wonder if she just needs somebody to confirm that it's okay to be conflicted about his vasectomy, and that if she really wants to have biological children with him, then she needs to speak up now.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Risks and Reward
I am really proud of my best friend. She spent years being paranoid about what others thought of her, of whether her actions befit a “good mom”, and no amount of “hip mama” talk could break her out of it. A good mom doesn’t go to clubs and dance and stay out ‘til 2am even though the kids are safe and sound at grandma’s house. A good mom doesn’t have a funky haircut or *gasp* hot pink streaks in her hair – what would the other moms at the day care think? These thoughts plagued her, a former goth, and I watched parts of her change dramatically.
Oh, sure, part of it is growing up. At 30 I’m more selective of what I wear on a day-to-day basis than I was at 22, I go with clip-in streaks and tie-on hair falls that can be removed for day at the office, but I’m far from grown up. It wasn’t so much that she changed, though. It was that she wanted to do funky things with her hair, to go out with us to the club, to wear the t-shirts with the double entendres. But her refrain remained “I’m a mom now”.
Her sons are now 5 and 2, she’s now 32, and she just took an amazing risk to do something she’s talked about for years: she just joined a roller derby league. This has been a dream of hers as long as I’ve known her, long before the resurgence of the sport. She thought about derby names – the dirtier, the meaner the better – and she went about designing her derby image. She’s buying the good skates and the good pads and going out there to kick some ass. And while the fear of injury is there—a teammate of a good friend of mine became paralyzed after an accident in Chicago, and other girls have suffered horrific breaks—she’s actually recognizing that while she’s far more likely to seriously injure herself doing derby than in her day-to-day life as a stay-at-home mom, serious injuries in the sport are actually not that common. It’s a risk that’s worth taking.
Additionally, she’s going to be doing a Polar Bear Plunge for the Special Olympics, another thing she always wanted to do (jump into a freezing river for charity) that is unbecoming a proper mom. The best part of all this is that she is so much happier than she's been in years now that she's letting go of her fantasy of what a 'proper mom' is and becoming more confident that the best thing she can do for her kids is just be herself.
To celebrate her newly unburied risk-taking spirit I’m donating 100% of profits from my CafePress Childfree Me Store for the month of December (by far my busiest month of the year) to her to pledge for her Polar Bear Plunge. If you ever thought about getting a Childfree t-shirt or coffeemug for you or a friend, the profit’s going to a great cause. (The store link is now fixed)
Oh, sure, part of it is growing up. At 30 I’m more selective of what I wear on a day-to-day basis than I was at 22, I go with clip-in streaks and tie-on hair falls that can be removed for day at the office, but I’m far from grown up. It wasn’t so much that she changed, though. It was that she wanted to do funky things with her hair, to go out with us to the club, to wear the t-shirts with the double entendres. But her refrain remained “I’m a mom now”.
Her sons are now 5 and 2, she’s now 32, and she just took an amazing risk to do something she’s talked about for years: she just joined a roller derby league. This has been a dream of hers as long as I’ve known her, long before the resurgence of the sport. She thought about derby names – the dirtier, the meaner the better – and she went about designing her derby image. She’s buying the good skates and the good pads and going out there to kick some ass. And while the fear of injury is there—a teammate of a good friend of mine became paralyzed after an accident in Chicago, and other girls have suffered horrific breaks—she’s actually recognizing that while she’s far more likely to seriously injure herself doing derby than in her day-to-day life as a stay-at-home mom, serious injuries in the sport are actually not that common. It’s a risk that’s worth taking.
Additionally, she’s going to be doing a Polar Bear Plunge for the Special Olympics, another thing she always wanted to do (jump into a freezing river for charity) that is unbecoming a proper mom. The best part of all this is that she is so much happier than she's been in years now that she's letting go of her fantasy of what a 'proper mom' is and becoming more confident that the best thing she can do for her kids is just be herself.
To celebrate her newly unburied risk-taking spirit I’m donating 100% of profits from my CafePress Childfree Me Store for the month of December (by far my busiest month of the year) to her to pledge for her Polar Bear Plunge. If you ever thought about getting a Childfree t-shirt or coffeemug for you or a friend, the profit’s going to a great cause. (The store link is now fixed)
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Perspective
A common theme among the comments about my friends’ newborn son and daughter, respectively, is how much the photo and stories of the baby make these women want one of their own. There was once a time where I wished I felt that way, but being comfortable in the fact that I simply do not is a huge development, and I’ve got to say I’m pretty proud of me.
As I’ve watched the most recent of my friends becoming parents, watching photos of their growing bellies, listening to their excitement and concerns, buying gifts and attending showers, I was sort of expecting to come to some big personal crisis. Would my body start to want a baby against my will? Would I start wondering about my legacy, wishing for a baby of my own? I waited and waited, feeling reasonably prepared to deal with the feelings when they arose, knowing that it was biology, animal instinct that would be kicking in.
But nothing happened. Even now I look at babies Ruth and Delilah, Morela and Cullen, and I think… well, virtually nothing. Morela and Cullen are the spitting image of their daddies, Delilah and Ruth undoubtedly their mothers’ daughters. But that’s about it. No pangs in my uterus, no wishing, no wanting, just “heh, cute baby” (or, in the case of one of the children, “yipes, NOT a cute baby”). Babies babies everywhere, and I sit here, the only woman in the room unaffected.
It’s an awesome place to be, because it shows just how far I’ve come, no longer mourning that which makes me different, but embracing it as a part of me that makes me me.
As I’ve watched the most recent of my friends becoming parents, watching photos of their growing bellies, listening to their excitement and concerns, buying gifts and attending showers, I was sort of expecting to come to some big personal crisis. Would my body start to want a baby against my will? Would I start wondering about my legacy, wishing for a baby of my own? I waited and waited, feeling reasonably prepared to deal with the feelings when they arose, knowing that it was biology, animal instinct that would be kicking in.
But nothing happened. Even now I look at babies Ruth and Delilah, Morela and Cullen, and I think… well, virtually nothing. Morela and Cullen are the spitting image of their daddies, Delilah and Ruth undoubtedly their mothers’ daughters. But that’s about it. No pangs in my uterus, no wishing, no wanting, just “heh, cute baby” (or, in the case of one of the children, “yipes, NOT a cute baby”). Babies babies everywhere, and I sit here, the only woman in the room unaffected.
It’s an awesome place to be, because it shows just how far I’ve come, no longer mourning that which makes me different, but embracing it as a part of me that makes me me.
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Touching a Nerve
My post regarding my friends' choice to co-sleep with their infant and my complete lack of understanding toward it really seemed to touch a nerve with people——much moreso than any other post of mine, and I find that surprising.
People commented that the post was judgmental, and to that I say "that was the point". I'm not saying they're making the wrong decision, I'm just expressing confusion and a complete lack of understanding for it. The 24/7-ness of parenting is probably my main objection to the idea of being a mother, and co-sleeping, where the child sleeps in the bed with his parents, boggles my mind.
It does so for a couple reasons, but primarily it's invading the space of the bedroom. (Please bear in mind I realize how ridiculous this idea is if you have a child–—that's kind of my point.) The bedroom is a sacred place to us. No television, no distractions. Only a few select things happen there, and my husband and I like it that way. Having a child in the first place is distracting from the relationship, and bringing a child into the bed makes one-on-one intimacy (not the new breed of family intimacy that occurs while bonding with the child) nigh impossible. I find this bizarre.
OBVIOUSLY things change when you bring a baby into the picture. I like things the way they are and would rather they didn't change.
Am I judging the idea of co-sleeping? ABSOLUTELY! I understand why it's beneficial to the child, but on a selfish level I simply don't get it——and it IS a selfish thought. Am I judging my friends on their choice? Yes and no. I think they're going to make whatever decisions they feel work for them. I enjoy exploring my reactions to certain things when I feel so strongly, and this is one of those moments. I am horrified by the idea of it, but I also think that they feel this is the best decision for them——so more power to them!
I'm not planning on making a gazillion posts about the decisions my friends make about parenting and the rightness and wrongness of such decisions, especially as more of them become parents. But when something bothers me as much as the idea of co-sleeping does, I like to get my thoughts out and reflect upon them. Your comments fuel my reflection and I'm thankful for that.
People commented that the post was judgmental, and to that I say "that was the point". I'm not saying they're making the wrong decision, I'm just expressing confusion and a complete lack of understanding for it. The 24/7-ness of parenting is probably my main objection to the idea of being a mother, and co-sleeping, where the child sleeps in the bed with his parents, boggles my mind.
It does so for a couple reasons, but primarily it's invading the space of the bedroom. (Please bear in mind I realize how ridiculous this idea is if you have a child–—that's kind of my point.) The bedroom is a sacred place to us. No television, no distractions. Only a few select things happen there, and my husband and I like it that way. Having a child in the first place is distracting from the relationship, and bringing a child into the bed makes one-on-one intimacy (not the new breed of family intimacy that occurs while bonding with the child) nigh impossible. I find this bizarre.
OBVIOUSLY things change when you bring a baby into the picture. I like things the way they are and would rather they didn't change.
Am I judging the idea of co-sleeping? ABSOLUTELY! I understand why it's beneficial to the child, but on a selfish level I simply don't get it——and it IS a selfish thought. Am I judging my friends on their choice? Yes and no. I think they're going to make whatever decisions they feel work for them. I enjoy exploring my reactions to certain things when I feel so strongly, and this is one of those moments. I am horrified by the idea of it, but I also think that they feel this is the best decision for them——so more power to them!
I'm not planning on making a gazillion posts about the decisions my friends make about parenting and the rightness and wrongness of such decisions, especially as more of them become parents. But when something bothers me as much as the idea of co-sleeping does, I like to get my thoughts out and reflect upon them. Your comments fuel my reflection and I'm thankful for that.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
"Co-Sleeping"? Are you SERIOUS?
My friend and her husband are having a baby. They were supposed to have a baby last Sunday (the 11th) , but she just doesn’t seem to want to be born so they’re inducing on Thanksgiving. In her years of dealing with infertility, my friend has idealized the idea of being a mother, having a child, and I fear she’s in for a rude awakening. From her comments at the baby shower “they can’t possibly poop that much!” or “that will be a snap!” to certain commentary she makes on her blog, I worry that she may be walking blindly into it. I hope she’s just putting on an air of cockiness because if she’s not, the reality of having a baby is going to hit her hard.
One thing that really kind of freaked me out more than their plans to use cloth diapers, make their own baby food and be overall perfect parents 100% of the time with no complaints because raising a kid is not that hard—other moms are just big complainers, is that they don’t have a crib. Yup. No crip. They’re co-sleeping.
Because having a baby isn’t 24/7 enough apparently.
Isn’t it bad enough that having a baby zaps your romantic energy? That you’re already spending every waking moment with the child. Now you’re going to bring that child into your bed? I can’t imagine where one might think this is a good idea. Every mother needs a break from their child. If they don’t take a break once in awhile they’re in danger of losing their own identity outside of “mother” (and many mothers will likely argue that this is something that’s perfectly alright with them). I place a great deal of value on my personal time and space and can’t imagine NEVER being alone. Because that’s the life you doom yourself to if you’re co-sleeping without even the OPTION of putting the baby down without you because you don’t have a crib!
There’s a lot about motherhood’s appeal that eludes me, but this takes it one step further. … I started to type here that “there are elements of motherhood that are appealing”, but there really aren’t to me. Sure, having a 5-year-old might be kind of cool once in awhile, but not 24/7, but babies? Everyone else can keep their babies because I don’t want one. And while babies themselves and the inherent commitment is terrifying enough, absolutely nothing about a co-sleeping arrangement sounds appealing to me. It sounds downright scary.
One thing that really kind of freaked me out more than their plans to use cloth diapers, make their own baby food and be overall perfect parents 100% of the time with no complaints because raising a kid is not that hard—other moms are just big complainers, is that they don’t have a crib. Yup. No crip. They’re co-sleeping.
Because having a baby isn’t 24/7 enough apparently.
Isn’t it bad enough that having a baby zaps your romantic energy? That you’re already spending every waking moment with the child. Now you’re going to bring that child into your bed? I can’t imagine where one might think this is a good idea. Every mother needs a break from their child. If they don’t take a break once in awhile they’re in danger of losing their own identity outside of “mother” (and many mothers will likely argue that this is something that’s perfectly alright with them). I place a great deal of value on my personal time and space and can’t imagine NEVER being alone. Because that’s the life you doom yourself to if you’re co-sleeping without even the OPTION of putting the baby down without you because you don’t have a crib!
There’s a lot about motherhood’s appeal that eludes me, but this takes it one step further. … I started to type here that “there are elements of motherhood that are appealing”, but there really aren’t to me. Sure, having a 5-year-old might be kind of cool once in awhile, but not 24/7, but babies? Everyone else can keep their babies because I don’t want one. And while babies themselves and the inherent commitment is terrifying enough, absolutely nothing about a co-sleeping arrangement sounds appealing to me. It sounds downright scary.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
"Hate" Is a Very Strong Word
As a childfree woman in my childbearing prime (eew...I hate the word "childbearing"), the question often arises about whether I hate children. I’ve done a lot of soul-searching on this topic, and the best response I can come up with is “hate is a very strong word”, and I’ll attempt to explain why.
There are some children I adore. And there are many, many times that I want to take these children, who I love completely, and shut them in a room so they stop bothering me. I have a low tolerance for being annoyed—a favorite phrase in our house is “you’re not being annoying, I’m just being annoyed”, something I say to my husband when I ask him to stop, say, humming along to a song or tapping his fingers against the table in a way that bothers me. It’s not his fault and I acknowledge that, but I am unsettled by it just the same.
This is a character flaw I know well, and it makes me sad that I have such a low tolerance for simple behaviors that I decide are annoying, but there it is. It also doesn’t take much for that annoyance to evolve into resentment, even with my own husband at times. It is among the biggest reasons that I cannot be a mother. If I’m capable of being so irritated with nieces and nephews—whom I love completely—that I want to smother them with a pillow just to get some peace and quiet, that I want to scream at them “No I DON’T want to see something cool, I’m BUSY!”, how could that possibly change magically when having my own kids? Parents love to say “it’s different when they’re your own”, but I don’t buy it. Not for a second.
The evidence is everywhere, really. It’s a simple fact: parents get annoyed by their kids. They get angry. They get furious. But for me, it’s when that annoyance turns to resentment that bothers me.
This is all avoiding the question of whether I hate kids. I think I can honestly say I don’t much like kids. I don’t like that babies require constant attention to the exclusion of all else. I don’t like that toddlers are destructively curious and incessant talkers. I don’t like how preschoolers ask constant questions and are always fighting for attention. I don’t like how schoolchildren are mean to each other and are horribly materialistic just because TV tells them to be. I don’t like the selfishness of “kids these days”, thinking they deserve whatever they want because they’re the most special thing on the planet. I love my nieces and nephews, but sometimes I really don’t like them, just like there are moments when I don’t like my husband very much.
I’ve seen many parents struggle with this paradox, of loving their kids, of knowing they’re supposed to love their kids, but feeling like horrible people if they just want to give the kid a tranquilizer for a moment’s peace and quiet. I think parents who realize it’s okay to not like your child once in awhile are the ones who make the best moms and dads. But for so many it’s a constant struggle, and I know that would be my problem. I’d resent the child for needing me so much, I’d get irritated at their little habits, I’d get pissed off because I couldn’t listen to my music, watch my movies and television shows, go on my vacations.
People love to tell me what a great mom I’d make, and I’d probably do okay some of the time. But I don’t want to. Because I know myself and I know that my personality is not cut out for motherhood. It’s okay with me, I don’t feel a sense of loss over it. But people who don’t like children and can’t tolerate them doing what they do—the sheer state of being a child necessarily means one is going to annoy the hell out of grown-ups a lot of the time—have no business making babies.
There are some children I adore. And there are many, many times that I want to take these children, who I love completely, and shut them in a room so they stop bothering me. I have a low tolerance for being annoyed—a favorite phrase in our house is “you’re not being annoying, I’m just being annoyed”, something I say to my husband when I ask him to stop, say, humming along to a song or tapping his fingers against the table in a way that bothers me. It’s not his fault and I acknowledge that, but I am unsettled by it just the same.
This is a character flaw I know well, and it makes me sad that I have such a low tolerance for simple behaviors that I decide are annoying, but there it is. It also doesn’t take much for that annoyance to evolve into resentment, even with my own husband at times. It is among the biggest reasons that I cannot be a mother. If I’m capable of being so irritated with nieces and nephews—whom I love completely—that I want to smother them with a pillow just to get some peace and quiet, that I want to scream at them “No I DON’T want to see something cool, I’m BUSY!”, how could that possibly change magically when having my own kids? Parents love to say “it’s different when they’re your own”, but I don’t buy it. Not for a second.
The evidence is everywhere, really. It’s a simple fact: parents get annoyed by their kids. They get angry. They get furious. But for me, it’s when that annoyance turns to resentment that bothers me.
This is all avoiding the question of whether I hate kids. I think I can honestly say I don’t much like kids. I don’t like that babies require constant attention to the exclusion of all else. I don’t like that toddlers are destructively curious and incessant talkers. I don’t like how preschoolers ask constant questions and are always fighting for attention. I don’t like how schoolchildren are mean to each other and are horribly materialistic just because TV tells them to be. I don’t like the selfishness of “kids these days”, thinking they deserve whatever they want because they’re the most special thing on the planet. I love my nieces and nephews, but sometimes I really don’t like them, just like there are moments when I don’t like my husband very much.
I’ve seen many parents struggle with this paradox, of loving their kids, of knowing they’re supposed to love their kids, but feeling like horrible people if they just want to give the kid a tranquilizer for a moment’s peace and quiet. I think parents who realize it’s okay to not like your child once in awhile are the ones who make the best moms and dads. But for so many it’s a constant struggle, and I know that would be my problem. I’d resent the child for needing me so much, I’d get irritated at their little habits, I’d get pissed off because I couldn’t listen to my music, watch my movies and television shows, go on my vacations.
People love to tell me what a great mom I’d make, and I’d probably do okay some of the time. But I don’t want to. Because I know myself and I know that my personality is not cut out for motherhood. It’s okay with me, I don’t feel a sense of loss over it. But people who don’t like children and can’t tolerate them doing what they do—the sheer state of being a child necessarily means one is going to annoy the hell out of grown-ups a lot of the time—have no business making babies.
Thursday, November 15, 2007
Ooooh, shiny!
"My couch smells like shit," my best friend said to me today. "The kids probably spilled milk on it and didn't tell me."
Of course there’s an element of selfishness to my lack of desire for kids. I think everyone should look at the decision to procreate from a selfish level to help understand the reality of what aspects of their life they will be losing if they add a kid to their life. One of my big hang-ups is that I really like my stuff. I love being surrounded by beautiful things. My art glass collection brings me joy. I enjoy lighting candles throughout the house, setting a pretty table. I am proud of my meticulously alphabetized media collection, my beautiful chess set, our office full of blinking lights and expensive technology… all sorts of non-kid-friendly things.
When people with kids come to my house they love to tell me what nice things I have, and a resounding theme is “I wish I could have nice things”, or “it’s so much easier to decorate when you don’t have child safety to think about”. A living room free from bright plastic toys and random kid crap strewn about makes me really happy.
The loss of my pretties would be damaging to me, as would the need to more seriously consider purchases. I don’t want to go into huge debt to be able to have nice things. My husband and I are materialistic, but not to a fault in that we have no credit card debt and continue to have savings as a major part of our budget.
But the thought of my sofa smelling like shit (and my best friend has BEAUTIFUL furniture) makes me really sad. Her beautiful Victorian home is still gorgeous (I’m constantly envious) and she does have beautiful things, but the corner protectors on the coffee table, the scratched up hardwood floors and random cars and toys strewn about the house kind of screamed “mom’s house”.
Of course it’s not all about the stuff and all about the money. This was just on my mind after my conversation with her this morning.
Of course there’s an element of selfishness to my lack of desire for kids. I think everyone should look at the decision to procreate from a selfish level to help understand the reality of what aspects of their life they will be losing if they add a kid to their life. One of my big hang-ups is that I really like my stuff. I love being surrounded by beautiful things. My art glass collection brings me joy. I enjoy lighting candles throughout the house, setting a pretty table. I am proud of my meticulously alphabetized media collection, my beautiful chess set, our office full of blinking lights and expensive technology… all sorts of non-kid-friendly things.
When people with kids come to my house they love to tell me what nice things I have, and a resounding theme is “I wish I could have nice things”, or “it’s so much easier to decorate when you don’t have child safety to think about”. A living room free from bright plastic toys and random kid crap strewn about makes me really happy.
The loss of my pretties would be damaging to me, as would the need to more seriously consider purchases. I don’t want to go into huge debt to be able to have nice things. My husband and I are materialistic, but not to a fault in that we have no credit card debt and continue to have savings as a major part of our budget.
But the thought of my sofa smelling like shit (and my best friend has BEAUTIFUL furniture) makes me really sad. Her beautiful Victorian home is still gorgeous (I’m constantly envious) and she does have beautiful things, but the corner protectors on the coffee table, the scratched up hardwood floors and random cars and toys strewn about the house kind of screamed “mom’s house”.
Of course it’s not all about the stuff and all about the money. This was just on my mind after my conversation with her this morning.
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
All About the Benjamins
So yesterday I became a grown-up. I got an American Express card.
I know, it sounds totally ridiculous. My main motivation was so I could buy good tickets to see Wicked the musical – you need an American Express card to buy advance tickets, apparently, but it was also time to see if all the work toward repairing a couple bad years with credit in my early 20s had finally paid off. And apparently it has.
My husband and I had abysmal credit when we met. Lack of credit education and attending major state universities led to us both naively signing up for more credit cards than we needed and getting in over our heads. Luckily I was so bad at it that my debt topped out at about $2000, but the marks it left on my credit report were deep and dark, especially from the car I bought that I couldn’t afford. Someone somewhere put the idea in my head that if I paid each bill every other month (credit cards one month, the car the next), I could make it work. I’m still in awe that I could have been so dumb about it, but there it is, and I was unable to get even the tiniest credit card until about 4 years ago. Ditto with my husband.
Fast forward to today and in four years we’ve been able to clean up our credit. The days of being unable to get a credit card seem far off now that we have almost $20,000 in credit limits. Oh, the damage we could do with that kind of purchasing power...
But here’s the thing. We’ve made the mistake already. We corrected the mistake and learned from it. We never spend more than we can pay off in one, maybe two months, and we pay the cards off in full. When family members have learned that we have no debt, their response is almost inevitably: “Well, you don’t have kids.”
Don’t they see a problem with this? So many people think about “living within their means” and they include credit cards as a part of their means. Sure, the credit cards give us $20,000 that we could go out and spend on stuff. That doesn’t mean we can afford it.
But if we had kids we’d almost certainly be in a position to use those cards to get us by. The home in the good school district, the practical vehicle, the school supplies and clothes, the extracurricular activities—we couldn’t begin to afford that and still save for the future. Retirement? Hell no, not when there’s college tuition to think about! Traveling? Not when you have to pay for another person. And we do okay financially.
Shift focus to a couple we know who’ve just become pregnant. Husband is freaking out because he needs to get a better job. They do okay, but struggle a lot financially because they live in an expensive area and both work fairly low-paying customer service jobs--they never went to college and neither has a real trade. To think that they’d be able to stay in their area after the baby’s born, especially if Mom wants to stay home (or, if she wants to work, she has day care to think about)… it’s just not reasonable. Unless they rely on credit. They already complain about their credit card debt, so what are they going to do when they add this expense to the mix while neither of them are making any more money?
They’re smart people, but having a child right now just seems like such a foolish move for them. But she’s getting older (she’s 36), the window’s closing. They seem to follow the “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” philosophy, but really, how can they expect to do this? It’s all so impractical that I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’m thrilled that they’re happy—I know they’ve wanted this for awhile but have been waiting for “the right time”, but how this translates into “the right time” is simply beyond me.
I know, it sounds totally ridiculous. My main motivation was so I could buy good tickets to see Wicked the musical – you need an American Express card to buy advance tickets, apparently, but it was also time to see if all the work toward repairing a couple bad years with credit in my early 20s had finally paid off. And apparently it has.
My husband and I had abysmal credit when we met. Lack of credit education and attending major state universities led to us both naively signing up for more credit cards than we needed and getting in over our heads. Luckily I was so bad at it that my debt topped out at about $2000, but the marks it left on my credit report were deep and dark, especially from the car I bought that I couldn’t afford. Someone somewhere put the idea in my head that if I paid each bill every other month (credit cards one month, the car the next), I could make it work. I’m still in awe that I could have been so dumb about it, but there it is, and I was unable to get even the tiniest credit card until about 4 years ago. Ditto with my husband.
Fast forward to today and in four years we’ve been able to clean up our credit. The days of being unable to get a credit card seem far off now that we have almost $20,000 in credit limits. Oh, the damage we could do with that kind of purchasing power...
But here’s the thing. We’ve made the mistake already. We corrected the mistake and learned from it. We never spend more than we can pay off in one, maybe two months, and we pay the cards off in full. When family members have learned that we have no debt, their response is almost inevitably: “Well, you don’t have kids.”
Don’t they see a problem with this? So many people think about “living within their means” and they include credit cards as a part of their means. Sure, the credit cards give us $20,000 that we could go out and spend on stuff. That doesn’t mean we can afford it.
But if we had kids we’d almost certainly be in a position to use those cards to get us by. The home in the good school district, the practical vehicle, the school supplies and clothes, the extracurricular activities—we couldn’t begin to afford that and still save for the future. Retirement? Hell no, not when there’s college tuition to think about! Traveling? Not when you have to pay for another person. And we do okay financially.
Shift focus to a couple we know who’ve just become pregnant. Husband is freaking out because he needs to get a better job. They do okay, but struggle a lot financially because they live in an expensive area and both work fairly low-paying customer service jobs--they never went to college and neither has a real trade. To think that they’d be able to stay in their area after the baby’s born, especially if Mom wants to stay home (or, if she wants to work, she has day care to think about)… it’s just not reasonable. Unless they rely on credit. They already complain about their credit card debt, so what are they going to do when they add this expense to the mix while neither of them are making any more money?
They’re smart people, but having a child right now just seems like such a foolish move for them. But she’s getting older (she’s 36), the window’s closing. They seem to follow the “God doesn’t give you more than you can handle” philosophy, but really, how can they expect to do this? It’s all so impractical that I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’m thrilled that they’re happy—I know they’ve wanted this for awhile but have been waiting for “the right time”, but how this translates into “the right time” is simply beyond me.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Hindsight and What-Ifs
M brought up an interesting point-to-ponder in her comment to my last post, about my friend Angie's struggle with her emotions regarding her boyfriend's kids. Would I have felt differently about my husband if he had come with a child?
I honestly don't know. Angie's situation is difficult, I think, because he has always come with this baggage. She knew he was a parent long before they started dating, and that's one reason that they knew each other for over a year before finally getting together. It's colored her impressions of the relationship and the "where is this going" end of it since the beginning.
My husband's ex was raising a son when they were together, and he was a true father figure to the boy. His sourness over the way she left things was exacerbated by the immediate breaking of ties with her kid. Even though he was pretty much the dad for the two years they lived together, he never got to say goodbye (because she was evil and selfish), and I think that's a sore spot that he never talks about. But let's say, for a moment, that this kid was his child, and that he was still in his life. Would I have still been interested?
I can say that it probably would've been something to add in the "con" column of our pro/con list (not the kid, per se, but all the baggage the kid brought into the relationship), but I'm not sure it would've been the dealbreaker. I don't think I could be a custodial parent, but if it meant having him in my life? Knowing what I know now about my husband I'd do it in a heartbeat, much in the same way that I'd take custody of my niece without question if something happened to my brother. However, I doubt I'd have even begun a relationship with him if he had been a custodial parent. A non-custodial parent? That's a big maybe.
As for Angie & her boyfriend? Who knows. After her engagement broke up a year and a half ago she vowed to spend the year abroad that her former fiancé had poo-pooed due to finances. She's been saving up since then and I think it's extremely important for her personal growth that she does it. I also think that her boyfriend will not be able to join her, and this will break her heart. Had they met after this year abroad I think it would be a completely different story, and maybe they'll come back together after her trip. I just think that if this doesn't work for them, it will have a lot more to do about the timing of the relationship than about his kids.
I honestly don't know. Angie's situation is difficult, I think, because he has always come with this baggage. She knew he was a parent long before they started dating, and that's one reason that they knew each other for over a year before finally getting together. It's colored her impressions of the relationship and the "where is this going" end of it since the beginning.
My husband's ex was raising a son when they were together, and he was a true father figure to the boy. His sourness over the way she left things was exacerbated by the immediate breaking of ties with her kid. Even though he was pretty much the dad for the two years they lived together, he never got to say goodbye (because she was evil and selfish), and I think that's a sore spot that he never talks about. But let's say, for a moment, that this kid was his child, and that he was still in his life. Would I have still been interested?
I can say that it probably would've been something to add in the "con" column of our pro/con list (not the kid, per se, but all the baggage the kid brought into the relationship), but I'm not sure it would've been the dealbreaker. I don't think I could be a custodial parent, but if it meant having him in my life? Knowing what I know now about my husband I'd do it in a heartbeat, much in the same way that I'd take custody of my niece without question if something happened to my brother. However, I doubt I'd have even begun a relationship with him if he had been a custodial parent. A non-custodial parent? That's a big maybe.
As for Angie & her boyfriend? Who knows. After her engagement broke up a year and a half ago she vowed to spend the year abroad that her former fiancé had poo-pooed due to finances. She's been saving up since then and I think it's extremely important for her personal growth that she does it. I also think that her boyfriend will not be able to join her, and this will break her heart. Had they met after this year abroad I think it would be a completely different story, and maybe they'll come back together after her trip. I just think that if this doesn't work for them, it will have a lot more to do about the timing of the relationship than about his kids.
Dealbreakers and Tough Choices
One of my closest friends has met the man of her dreams. Well, he’s got many qualities that the man of her dreams would have. They are totally and completely in love, but she’s still torn about the relationship, primarily due to his two children: a 9-year-old from his first marriage, and a 2-year-old that’s the result of a lying girlfriend who told him she was on birth control because he was such a great father, she wanted him to be the father of her child (there’s anecdotal evidence from friends she has lost by pulling this stunt).
Angie is a fence-sitter with her feet hanging onto the childfree side (she’s sure she doesn’t want children of her own, but thinks someday she might like to adopt or foster kids, though she identifies as childfree), and at first she was open to her boyfriend’s kids. His oldest is well-behaved and pretty cool, very independent and only comes over a couple times a week. His ex makes it very difficult for him to see the baby (though she has no problem taking his child support money). But now, as they look at the past 8 months together and consider the next steps, she’s got serious cold feet.
Angie loves to travel and plans to live abroad for at least year in late 2008, and for a number of reasons, all tied to the kids, it’s not possible for her boyfriend to join her. She’s come to resent the ridiculous amount (nearly her rent payment) that he spends on child support, as well as the time he spends with his son. A busy chef, his hours make it hard for them to spend time together, and the two nights a week he has off are spent with his son, and she’s not feeling up for bonding with him until she really discovers what she wants from the relationship.
She’s in a tough situation. She’s completely in love, but dealing with a serious dealbreaker situation. I don’t envy her position in the slightest, especially since I adore him as well, and seeing them together brings me joy. But their lives are just fundamentally incompatible. He wants to move abroad with her, to have his son visit them over the summer, but she also doesn’t want to spend a month or two living with his 9-year-old. It’s so sad to me that the situation is so difficult.
Angie is a fence-sitter with her feet hanging onto the childfree side (she’s sure she doesn’t want children of her own, but thinks someday she might like to adopt or foster kids, though she identifies as childfree), and at first she was open to her boyfriend’s kids. His oldest is well-behaved and pretty cool, very independent and only comes over a couple times a week. His ex makes it very difficult for him to see the baby (though she has no problem taking his child support money). But now, as they look at the past 8 months together and consider the next steps, she’s got serious cold feet.
Angie loves to travel and plans to live abroad for at least year in late 2008, and for a number of reasons, all tied to the kids, it’s not possible for her boyfriend to join her. She’s come to resent the ridiculous amount (nearly her rent payment) that he spends on child support, as well as the time he spends with his son. A busy chef, his hours make it hard for them to spend time together, and the two nights a week he has off are spent with his son, and she’s not feeling up for bonding with him until she really discovers what she wants from the relationship.
She’s in a tough situation. She’s completely in love, but dealing with a serious dealbreaker situation. I don’t envy her position in the slightest, especially since I adore him as well, and seeing them together brings me joy. But their lives are just fundamentally incompatible. He wants to move abroad with her, to have his son visit them over the summer, but she also doesn’t want to spend a month or two living with his 9-year-old. It’s so sad to me that the situation is so difficult.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Keeping Up Appearances...NOT!
I have a request to extend to the parents out there. DO NOT come to a party just to prove that you’re still hip and cool and normal and can hang out with all your kidless friends if you can’t be hip and cool and normal and hang out with all your kidless friends. KTHXBYE.
We have a couple we know through some other friends. In another time I’d have called them friends, but that was before an unfortunate (and hugely petty) altercation not involving us resulted in not really seeing each other for the better part of a year. They are now babified and Mom has completely changed. I do not like her anymore. In fact, I think I actively DISlike her.
Many of my friends have become parents without simultaneously becoming horribly unlikable people. I’d argue that MOST, if not ALL of my parented friends have done so. But this girl is too much.
EXAMPLE: She and her husband do nothing but sit on either side of the baby carrier, which sits on the futon. They do not interact with others. They are there to say “we went to a party this weekend”. Yes, their costumes of Mario, the Princess and a tiny one-up mushroom were clever and adorable. But when you don’t interact with people and spend the ENTIRE PARTY SITTING ON THE DAMN FUTON, why bother having the costumes?
EXAMPLE: The one time Mom ventured out into the party early in the night (before drinking had begun, by the way), the host’s new girlfriend, a mother of 3, asked if she could hold the baby. Mom FREAKED OUT and said “NO!”, then backtracked and said, sheepishly, “I don’t want to be the overprotective mom, but I don’t know you.” Your husband’s best friend trusts her with his penis, she has proven herself friendly and likable… hell, the rest of us like her lots. She doesn’t want to breastfeed the kid, she just wants to hold her for a moment and give you (who appears to be struggling) a break to maybe pull your top up to keep you from flashing everybody your boobs. Oh, and no touching either. That’s right. No touching the 4-month-old baby. We can admire her, though. But who knows where your hands have been, even if she’s reaching out to grab your finger.
Mom and I used to have great conversations. We used to want to get to know each other better, hand out. She was awesome and thought I was awesome. Now we have no words to share. She’s weird and standoffish and obsessively overprotective.
And I could not figure out, for the life of me, what they were doing at the party. Other friends in this particular circle (one we don’t usually travel in) have brought their babies to events but still manage to be sociable, interesting people who love it when others show interest in their daughter who’s about the same age. They come to a party to enjoy themselves and we enjoy their company. It doesn’t bother us that the kid is there. This couple, however, is so self-absorbed that it’s just AWKWARD. The party literally did not get going until they left because they made everybody so uncomfortable with their protective wall and “no touching” rules. It was just bizarre.
It felt to me like they were there just to prove to themselves that they could still party. But they failed, and I was actually embarrassed for them.
We have a couple we know through some other friends. In another time I’d have called them friends, but that was before an unfortunate (and hugely petty) altercation not involving us resulted in not really seeing each other for the better part of a year. They are now babified and Mom has completely changed. I do not like her anymore. In fact, I think I actively DISlike her.
Many of my friends have become parents without simultaneously becoming horribly unlikable people. I’d argue that MOST, if not ALL of my parented friends have done so. But this girl is too much.
EXAMPLE: She and her husband do nothing but sit on either side of the baby carrier, which sits on the futon. They do not interact with others. They are there to say “we went to a party this weekend”. Yes, their costumes of Mario, the Princess and a tiny one-up mushroom were clever and adorable. But when you don’t interact with people and spend the ENTIRE PARTY SITTING ON THE DAMN FUTON, why bother having the costumes?
EXAMPLE: The one time Mom ventured out into the party early in the night (before drinking had begun, by the way), the host’s new girlfriend, a mother of 3, asked if she could hold the baby. Mom FREAKED OUT and said “NO!”, then backtracked and said, sheepishly, “I don’t want to be the overprotective mom, but I don’t know you.” Your husband’s best friend trusts her with his penis, she has proven herself friendly and likable… hell, the rest of us like her lots. She doesn’t want to breastfeed the kid, she just wants to hold her for a moment and give you (who appears to be struggling) a break to maybe pull your top up to keep you from flashing everybody your boobs. Oh, and no touching either. That’s right. No touching the 4-month-old baby. We can admire her, though. But who knows where your hands have been, even if she’s reaching out to grab your finger.
Mom and I used to have great conversations. We used to want to get to know each other better, hand out. She was awesome and thought I was awesome. Now we have no words to share. She’s weird and standoffish and obsessively overprotective.
And I could not figure out, for the life of me, what they were doing at the party. Other friends in this particular circle (one we don’t usually travel in) have brought their babies to events but still manage to be sociable, interesting people who love it when others show interest in their daughter who’s about the same age. They come to a party to enjoy themselves and we enjoy their company. It doesn’t bother us that the kid is there. This couple, however, is so self-absorbed that it’s just AWKWARD. The party literally did not get going until they left because they made everybody so uncomfortable with their protective wall and “no touching” rules. It was just bizarre.
It felt to me like they were there just to prove to themselves that they could still party. But they failed, and I was actually embarrassed for them.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
On Morbid Curiosity
The babies are coming. One will be here in a matter of days, the other still needs another week in the oven. I’m actually kind of looking forward to the babies of two of my friends. One is getting the boy she was hoping for to add to her two girls, the other struggled for years with infertility and has had a *knock wood* very healthy pregnancy, but I'm also excited because they’re both extremely honest, prolific bloggers. I enjoy reading their words because they know that (a) there is value in documenting the good, as well as the bad, in parenting and (b) it’s a way for me to learn more about it. I enjoy learning about parenting the same way I enjoy learning about science or something—it’s nothing I want to practice, but it’s sure nice to know if the topic comes up.
I don’t know why I enjoy reading these types of blogs. I also enjoy trolling on the Clucky and “trying to conceive” LiveJournal communities... it’s really intriguing to me that I can be so interested in the experiences of others and yet completely turned off (and often creeped out) by the experience for myself. I blame my obsession with psychology for this, and my belief that baby rabies are a biological phenomenon and just because your body wants a baby doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the right time or that there IS a “right time”. I find myself fascinated and a little heartbroken for the woman who try try try, becoming obsessed to unhealthy levels. I’m mesmerized by the girls in their teens and early 20s who are freaking out because their boyfriends don’t want babies RIGHT NOW. To me it's shocking because it’s so the opposite of what I feel.
I think it used to be a masochistic act, because going to these sites used to make me feel deficient in some ways, wondering what was wrong with me that I didn't want what everyone else seemed to want, but now they make me feel powerful. I feel in control of my body and of my life, and I feel secure in knowing what I want and that this is the right path. I’m moved and captivated by the stories of these women because I think it helps me learn about “the other side”, what they’re thinking and feeling, especially since so many of my friends seem to be crossing that threshold. And while I have plenty of strong, likeminded women and couples surrounding me, I feel that having this extra bit of empathy might give me a chance to keep some of the new parents in my life as friends, even if our relationship is relegated to LiveJournal comments and the occasional e-mail.
I don’t know why I enjoy reading these types of blogs. I also enjoy trolling on the Clucky and “trying to conceive” LiveJournal communities... it’s really intriguing to me that I can be so interested in the experiences of others and yet completely turned off (and often creeped out) by the experience for myself. I blame my obsession with psychology for this, and my belief that baby rabies are a biological phenomenon and just because your body wants a baby doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the right time or that there IS a “right time”. I find myself fascinated and a little heartbroken for the woman who try try try, becoming obsessed to unhealthy levels. I’m mesmerized by the girls in their teens and early 20s who are freaking out because their boyfriends don’t want babies RIGHT NOW. To me it's shocking because it’s so the opposite of what I feel.
I think it used to be a masochistic act, because going to these sites used to make me feel deficient in some ways, wondering what was wrong with me that I didn't want what everyone else seemed to want, but now they make me feel powerful. I feel in control of my body and of my life, and I feel secure in knowing what I want and that this is the right path. I’m moved and captivated by the stories of these women because I think it helps me learn about “the other side”, what they’re thinking and feeling, especially since so many of my friends seem to be crossing that threshold. And while I have plenty of strong, likeminded women and couples surrounding me, I feel that having this extra bit of empathy might give me a chance to keep some of the new parents in my life as friends, even if our relationship is relegated to LiveJournal comments and the occasional e-mail.
Monday, October 22, 2007
How I Met Your Mother
I love pretty much everything about How I Met Your Mother, but I became hopelessly devoted to it when, on last week’s episode, they did something I’ve NEVER seen a TV show do, as far as I can recall: They kept Robin single (presumably) and childfree.
After seeing so many strong female characters who declared they didn’t want or have time for kids changing so completely, presumably to be “more relatable” to the average tv viewer (Callie on Grey’s Anatomy, Jordan from the now-cancelled Studio 60 and Cuddy from House among the most irritating).
Last week’s episode was an intriguing one. Robin started dating this great guy that Lily set her up with, but he had a kid. She tried to make it work but discovered that she had a real problem with it. And, in the end, when they did the flash-forward to the future, the drawing of Ted’s kids with “Aunt Robin” going to the zoo together, going to the park – they kept her as the “cool aunt” (how I identify myself) , which was so unbelievably cool to me. I love Robin, I totally and completely relate to Robin, and they let her “grow up” and follow a childfree (and apparently quirkyalone!) path.
Obviously a lot of CF women change their minds at some point in life. Quirkyalones become quirkytogethers and live happily ever after. But we all don’t. It was nice to see a tv show take a chance and commit to a character not having kids, and having that commitment not be wrought with tragedy and disappointment.
Anyway, I thought it was really cool.
After seeing so many strong female characters who declared they didn’t want or have time for kids changing so completely, presumably to be “more relatable” to the average tv viewer (Callie on Grey’s Anatomy, Jordan from the now-cancelled Studio 60 and Cuddy from House among the most irritating).
Last week’s episode was an intriguing one. Robin started dating this great guy that Lily set her up with, but he had a kid. She tried to make it work but discovered that she had a real problem with it. And, in the end, when they did the flash-forward to the future, the drawing of Ted’s kids with “Aunt Robin” going to the zoo together, going to the park – they kept her as the “cool aunt” (how I identify myself) , which was so unbelievably cool to me. I love Robin, I totally and completely relate to Robin, and they let her “grow up” and follow a childfree (and apparently quirkyalone!) path.
Obviously a lot of CF women change their minds at some point in life. Quirkyalones become quirkytogethers and live happily ever after. But we all don’t. It was nice to see a tv show take a chance and commit to a character not having kids, and having that commitment not be wrought with tragedy and disappointment.
Anyway, I thought it was really cool.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Redefining Family
I hate the phrase “starting a family”. Oh, I use it too. We all do. But I hate the implication that my family — me, hubby, and kitty — is not actually a family. Ditto for my single friends and their animals.
Sure, even the dictionary defines family as “parents and their children” and really doesn’t have a definition that includes my husband and myself solely (which is bizarre), but I define the word much more loosely.
My friends are family, the people I love and adore, the people I would bend over backwards to help, the people who would drop everything (and have done so) when someone in the group needs a hand.
And our animals are family. My cat Romeo has been with me for over a decade, and I can’t imagine my life without him. He comforts me when I’m sad, cuddles me when I’m sick and, well, bothers me when I’m busy. When he dies, I will mourn him and miss him. Hell, I cried a lot for my betta fish Marko, and he was “just a fish” who I’d had less than a year. My new betta, Fabrizio, is also family. It gives me joy to see him swim in his tank, and I like to think when he flits about and comes alive when I approach, when flares his gorgeous fins of red and blue and teal that he’s happy to see me too, rather than simply a Pavlovian response to food.
Of course my parents and my grandmother (my only living grandparent… that’s weird to think about) are family as well.
When people ask “when are you starting a family” I reply “I’ve already got one, and I think I'll keep it.” I believe we need to redefine family to the people and animals who love one another, and those with whom one surrounds oneself in order to experience joy and security. Or something like that.
I love my families. All of them.
Sure, even the dictionary defines family as “parents and their children” and really doesn’t have a definition that includes my husband and myself solely (which is bizarre), but I define the word much more loosely.
My friends are family, the people I love and adore, the people I would bend over backwards to help, the people who would drop everything (and have done so) when someone in the group needs a hand.
And our animals are family. My cat Romeo has been with me for over a decade, and I can’t imagine my life without him. He comforts me when I’m sad, cuddles me when I’m sick and, well, bothers me when I’m busy. When he dies, I will mourn him and miss him. Hell, I cried a lot for my betta fish Marko, and he was “just a fish” who I’d had less than a year. My new betta, Fabrizio, is also family. It gives me joy to see him swim in his tank, and I like to think when he flits about and comes alive when I approach, when flares his gorgeous fins of red and blue and teal that he’s happy to see me too, rather than simply a Pavlovian response to food.
Of course my parents and my grandmother (my only living grandparent… that’s weird to think about) are family as well.
When people ask “when are you starting a family” I reply “I’ve already got one, and I think I'll keep it.” I believe we need to redefine family to the people and animals who love one another, and those with whom one surrounds oneself in order to experience joy and security. Or something like that.
I love my families. All of them.
Monday, October 08, 2007
Ambivalence
There are several interesting threads that I pulled from yesterday’s baby shower. The one I found most interesting is definitely the wife of a friend of mine (let’s call her S to avoid confusion among all the female pronouns), one of the three childless women (our of over 20) at the shower. S and I have never really talked, though we go camping with her and her husband, but we truly found a camaraderie amongst the pomp and circumstance and organized fun of the shower. (To be fair, it was a really good time and I’m very glad I went). S and I compared knee scars and when the extremely pregnant girl sitting betwixt us, as S snapped away with the camera (she was designated photographer), asked if S was taking pictures because she was “baby crazy”.
“Oh god no, not yet. But my husband is about 1000x more baby crazy than I think I’ll ever be.” Preggers girl didn’t know how to react to this, so she sat silently between us again as S and I talked, quite literally, over her belly. CREEPY. But I digress…
S feels she’s not ready for kids yet and is starting to fear she won’t ever be. She finally just finished school and is really getting her career started, she still wants to travel, she LIKES traveling to see her husband’s concerts (he’s a musician), she loves his second job as a concert promoter. The fear comes from the fact that he wanted to start having babies before they were even married. And now, she says, he’s just nuts. He approaches every baby he ever sees (often to the dismay of the parents—he’s not exactly wholesome-looking) and coos and makes faces and plays, then goes on and on and on about it for days. She and her husband are both in their early 30s and have been together as long as anyone I know—probably 8 or 9 years now.
It’s interesting to meet someone where the roles are reversed. She married him figuring she’d ease into it, that eventually she’d feel this drive all her friends were talking about. Now she’s left, one of apparently 3 in her circle of friends (if I counted right at the shower), who isn’t currently extremely pregnant (there were 4 women, all due within a week of each other in a month), toting around a newborn or saddled with a couple toddlers. But it’s not happening.
It’s at this point that I’m going to start putting words in her mouth.
I wonder if she wants kids at all. She wants to keep partying, to keep clubbing, to enjoy her work and build her career. She, like me, was the only one to show no interest into the babies who tagged along or the hostess’s toddlers. She’s the only one who didn’t completely freak out over EVERY cutesy little thing she saw. I have a hard enough time dealing with the in-laws; I can’t imagine discovering that my choice is at odds with what my own husband wants. I feel terrible for her.
It could just be cold feet, but I felt a kindred spirit as we spoke, as she lamented again and again, and to more people (who apparently know of her husband’s baby rabies and who speculated that his coming “retirement” from the Biz is so that they can start a family), that he wants this so much more than she ever will, and the sadness in her eyes… maybe I’m imagining it there because I was so needing someone, someone who didn’t know a diaper pad from a breast pad (eeew) or why you have to try a bunch of different kinds of breast pads to find “the one that works for you for the leaky leakies” (double eew).
To be honest, I hope I *am* reading too much into it, that she isn’t as ambivalent, because that ambivalence just means bad news for their marriage and for the kids that she’ll have to please her husband because it’s the right thing to do.
“Oh god no, not yet. But my husband is about 1000x more baby crazy than I think I’ll ever be.” Preggers girl didn’t know how to react to this, so she sat silently between us again as S and I talked, quite literally, over her belly. CREEPY. But I digress…
S feels she’s not ready for kids yet and is starting to fear she won’t ever be. She finally just finished school and is really getting her career started, she still wants to travel, she LIKES traveling to see her husband’s concerts (he’s a musician), she loves his second job as a concert promoter. The fear comes from the fact that he wanted to start having babies before they were even married. And now, she says, he’s just nuts. He approaches every baby he ever sees (often to the dismay of the parents—he’s not exactly wholesome-looking) and coos and makes faces and plays, then goes on and on and on about it for days. She and her husband are both in their early 30s and have been together as long as anyone I know—probably 8 or 9 years now.
It’s interesting to meet someone where the roles are reversed. She married him figuring she’d ease into it, that eventually she’d feel this drive all her friends were talking about. Now she’s left, one of apparently 3 in her circle of friends (if I counted right at the shower), who isn’t currently extremely pregnant (there were 4 women, all due within a week of each other in a month), toting around a newborn or saddled with a couple toddlers. But it’s not happening.
It’s at this point that I’m going to start putting words in her mouth.
I wonder if she wants kids at all. She wants to keep partying, to keep clubbing, to enjoy her work and build her career. She, like me, was the only one to show no interest into the babies who tagged along or the hostess’s toddlers. She’s the only one who didn’t completely freak out over EVERY cutesy little thing she saw. I have a hard enough time dealing with the in-laws; I can’t imagine discovering that my choice is at odds with what my own husband wants. I feel terrible for her.
It could just be cold feet, but I felt a kindred spirit as we spoke, as she lamented again and again, and to more people (who apparently know of her husband’s baby rabies and who speculated that his coming “retirement” from the Biz is so that they can start a family), that he wants this so much more than she ever will, and the sadness in her eyes… maybe I’m imagining it there because I was so needing someone, someone who didn’t know a diaper pad from a breast pad (eeew) or why you have to try a bunch of different kinds of breast pads to find “the one that works for you for the leaky leakies” (double eew).
To be honest, I hope I *am* reading too much into it, that she isn’t as ambivalent, because that ambivalence just means bad news for their marriage and for the kids that she’ll have to please her husband because it’s the right thing to do.
Friday, October 05, 2007
The Drive to Procreate (+ tangents)
I’m just going to say it, because it’s been on my mind and it’s making me crazy.
I don’t believe in infertility treatments. I also don’t know where to draw the line, but to me it is the ultimate in selfishness to spend a gazillion dollars to have a child that’s biologically “yours” when there are so many children out there who need homes.
That said, I also believe adoption is absurdly expensive and should be made more accessible in order to make it a more reasonable option.
Add this to the list of posts that will lose me friends if spotted by anyone I know.
I have a friend who dealt with infertility for years. I am not minimizing her pain—it was very difficult for her, and this belief of mine does not diminish my joy that she was finally able to conceive and will, in a month, hopefully deliver a healthy baby girl. This is also the friend that told me that the fact that health issues would likely mean I would have fertility problems as well made her feel better about me being childfree because I wasn’t wasting a perfectly good uterus.
I have very mixed emotions about the choice she and her husband made, which is one many make, to put their money toward conceiving a child that was biologically theirs. They were so close to choosing foster care or adoption. They have friends who are going through the process. There was a part of me that wanted to see them make that choice, perhaps to help shatter the whole idea of family being about blood that is battered about with my husband being the “last of the family line”.
There’s a lot of guilt that accompanies feeling this way. I don’t resent this new baby girl (for whom I just bought the most adorable quilt), or her parents, but it brings to light a conflict in my mind.
A huge motivating factor for me, second only to the fact that I have no desire to be a mom, is the fact that there are too many children in this world. I cringe when I hear the Mexican girl in the office talking about her 62 cousins, the children of her father’s 18 siblings. She is one of 7. Yeah. Exactly.
So seriously, we need more children in this world? I have no romantic illusions about adoption. I know it’s hard for many couples to find a child. I know interracial and international adoption both come with their own completely unique sets of problems. I know it’s full of conflict and in no way is it the “easy” alternative. But my god, to go to such trouble just to give birth yourself and to have a part of “you”?
With my complete lack of understanding on this, you can see why I have no business even considering being a mother. I completely don’t get this drive, this desire that’s insatiable until a baby is growing in your belly…
All I can think of is that bit from Aliens…. What’s in-f**king-side me?!… I’m creeped out by pregnancy, I dislike babies and their excretions… it sounds foul to speak of it that way, but I don’t like it. Being pregnant, caring 24/7 for baby, cleaning up *EVERYTHING*... It just sounds like hell….
I don’t believe in infertility treatments. I also don’t know where to draw the line, but to me it is the ultimate in selfishness to spend a gazillion dollars to have a child that’s biologically “yours” when there are so many children out there who need homes.
That said, I also believe adoption is absurdly expensive and should be made more accessible in order to make it a more reasonable option.
Add this to the list of posts that will lose me friends if spotted by anyone I know.
I have a friend who dealt with infertility for years. I am not minimizing her pain—it was very difficult for her, and this belief of mine does not diminish my joy that she was finally able to conceive and will, in a month, hopefully deliver a healthy baby girl. This is also the friend that told me that the fact that health issues would likely mean I would have fertility problems as well made her feel better about me being childfree because I wasn’t wasting a perfectly good uterus.
I have very mixed emotions about the choice she and her husband made, which is one many make, to put their money toward conceiving a child that was biologically theirs. They were so close to choosing foster care or adoption. They have friends who are going through the process. There was a part of me that wanted to see them make that choice, perhaps to help shatter the whole idea of family being about blood that is battered about with my husband being the “last of the family line”.
There’s a lot of guilt that accompanies feeling this way. I don’t resent this new baby girl (for whom I just bought the most adorable quilt), or her parents, but it brings to light a conflict in my mind.
A huge motivating factor for me, second only to the fact that I have no desire to be a mom, is the fact that there are too many children in this world. I cringe when I hear the Mexican girl in the office talking about her 62 cousins, the children of her father’s 18 siblings. She is one of 7. Yeah. Exactly.
So seriously, we need more children in this world? I have no romantic illusions about adoption. I know it’s hard for many couples to find a child. I know interracial and international adoption both come with their own completely unique sets of problems. I know it’s full of conflict and in no way is it the “easy” alternative. But my god, to go to such trouble just to give birth yourself and to have a part of “you”?
With my complete lack of understanding on this, you can see why I have no business even considering being a mother. I completely don’t get this drive, this desire that’s insatiable until a baby is growing in your belly…
All I can think of is that bit from Aliens…. What’s in-f**king-side me?!… I’m creeped out by pregnancy, I dislike babies and their excretions… it sounds foul to speak of it that way, but I don’t like it. Being pregnant, caring 24/7 for baby, cleaning up *EVERYTHING*... It just sounds like hell….
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