Thoughts and questions on child-rearing
I haven't posted here in a long while, mostly because life has been pretty one-day-at-a-time. But, I've got a question kicking around in my head that seems too long to just post to Facebook, and I'd appreciate insights and advice from y'all about it.
Short version:
If/when I ever get married, I think I'd like to adopt and/or foster kids, with a particular preference for sibling-pairs or groups. How do I go about preparing for that?
Much longer version:
For a long time, I felt like I would never, ever, ever want to have kids. This largely stemmed from the way my own mom seemed to feel about raising me. She told me many, many times over the years how hard, unrewarding, and draining raising me was-- and yet there was only one of me to contend with, and I was a pretty smart and well-behaved kid. (I was not perfect, and yes I threw some epic tantrums, but I think I was also pretty sweet and considerate and I definitely stayed out of trouble. And I did well academically. God Lord, if there's one thing I know I did well, it was academics. That, and abiding by rules.)
I never got the impression that raising me ever gave her any feelings of delight or pride or wonder, unlike the way so many other mothers seem to talk about their kids and parenting experiences. It seemed like all I did was misbehave and ruin her life. It often felt like just tolerating my presence in her life was more than she, or any sane person, could be expected to handle.
When I tried to square this with the fact that I was, by every objective standard, a pretty good, normal kid, the conclusion I came to was: kids are really, really hard. You shouldn't have them unless you're willing to live in hell and never have any fun or get to do anything you want to do for 18 years (or more if you're dealing with multiple kids). Don't have kids unless you never want to have any money or savings or time or rest or peace of mind or any kind of decent relationship with your partner or anyone else. Don't have kids unless you're willing to put up with someone you hold in complete contempt for nearly 2 decades. Don't have kids unless you're willing to give up all happiness and independence and sense of agency for the rest of your life, and get nothing in return.
My perspective on this has evolved in the past few years. I've started to wrap my head around the fact that *I* did *not* ruin my parents financially. I did not make them hate each other. I actually do believe, now, that I was a good kid. I believe that I was the kind of kid who brought delight into peoples' lives, and that I could often be a joy to be around. I believe I gave my parents many, many things to be very proud of.
I've also started to see that the way my mom felt isn't normal, or maybe even typical. First, because I now know several people around my age (or a bit older) who have kids, and they talk about parenting and their kids and... I mean, they don't sugarcoat the fact that it's exhausting, and that there are more bodily fluids involved than one might ideally like, and that it cuts into your weekend carousing routine. But they don't seem bitter about it. They seem excited and happy to have kids, and to get to know their kids as people in and of themselves. They seem honored to be able to teach and protect their kids. They seem to, well... *like* their kids, and they don't seem to regret becoming parents.
Second, it's because I've started to have more interactions with kids, myself, and I find that I always feel honored and excited to interact with young people. I've yet to find myself feeling bitter at a kid, or even at any of my college-aged students. (The student-thing seems relevant because teaching feels a LOT like parenting, to me. I may not be the best judge of that, but something about it seems really similar.)
The lady next door has two daughters. One's about 11, and the other is 7 or 8, I think. The new downstairs neighbors have a boy, too. He's about 9 or 10. From time to time, I see these kids around and say "Hi!" and ask how they're doing, or what they're up to, or whether those are Sponge Bob crocs they're wearing, or whatever. You know, just talking to them like you would anybody else.
And it's amazing-- these kids are so smart. And they are so emotionally honest. You always know exactly where you stand with kids. There's none of that nerve-wracking second guessing that's always present (for me, at least) with adults. Even if they hate you, you at least know.
And that's just with the older kids. When it comes to babies and toddlers-- man. It's so crazy and wonderful when they trust you. They are SO INTERESTING. You can watch their minds being built, and it's so amazing. There is nothing more interesting than watching a little kid in the process of learning or understanding something. Seriously, NOTHING. It is so, so cool. The best thing is when you, yourself, are able to teach them something, to hand them the keys to the skills they so obviously want to master (talking, walking, throwing water balloons, you name it). It is such a power-rush, but not in a bad way, I think. I'd never realized how powerful the ability to understand someone and to make them happy is until I began TAing and interacting with really young kids. That's the kind of power I mean-- the power to do something really, really good for another human being. I'd never realized before that I was anywhere close enough to being a good enough person to be able to do that.
Even when they get fussy and have tantrums, I haven't found myself thinking "Arg, this kid is such an asshole!" Rather, I find myself thinking "Wow, I really want to know what's upsetting that kid so much." Like, my reaction is to want to get inside their head, and maybe to then help to reassure them and teach them how to regulate themselves so that they don't have to feel so upset about not getting a cookie or whatever. I don't feel bitter; I feel curious and kind of protective.
So, anyway: now that I more than half-believe that it really is possible to enjoy parenting (at least sometimes), I find myself reconsidering my no-child policy. I think I could actually be a pretty good parent, since I care a lot about taking care of other people, have decent empathy, feel nothing but *respect* for kids (this has surprised me, but it's really true), and have the ability to have my shit together when other people are counting on me. But more importantly, I'm starting to think that having kids could be kind of *fun*, at least sometimes. Maybe I will wake up some days feeling really, really glad that they're in the world. Maybe they'd even love *me*, too. Maybe they'd be glad I existed, too. (Who knew such things were possible? Apparently they are.) Instead of ruining my life, maybe they'd make life richer and more interesting and more meaningful. Maybe. I mean, I have no illusions about how hard and unpleasant raising a kid can be, but maybe...
Maybe I want to have kids. But that brings us to the next problem: pregnancy.
As you know, I'm on an SSRI. On the very rare occasions that I've gone without taking my meds for two days in a row, it makes a big difference. Some people can do a year or 6 months on an anti-depressant, come off of it, and be pretty much cured of their chemical imbalances. Some people, though, never manage to get back to neurotypical on their own. Due to the severity and duration of my depression (half my life by the time I got on meds, remember), I suspect I'll be on meds until I die. Also, I just have this sense about my body... Like, you know when you go to the doctor and they say "you could have this or that?" and you just sort of know you've got "this" and not "that"? It's like that. I just sense that I'm going to be on these drugs long past my child bearing years. I do not think I could go 9 months, or longer, without them. I suspect that could end up being fatal, even before you factor in all the hormone induced mood swings that pregnancy entails. If I got pregnant, I'd already be giving up all of my coping mechanisms that come in liquid or cigarette forms. But 9 months without an SSRI (or longer! remember, post-birth blues can be killer! Also, breastfeeding...) seems like a really big risk for me, personally.
SSRIs can cause birth defects. I looked up the stats on it. The heart-valve thing? Very low odds, and even if it does happen, it's very easy to fix. Same with the lung thing. But in recent years, a growing body of evidence has started to indicate that SSRIs may also cause autism in developing fetuses. And no one knows, yet, what the odds are on that one.
Even if I weren't on any meds, I'm already 27. I very likely won't be in a position to have kids of my own until I'm in my mid-thirties. By that age, my eggs would already be plenty error-prone. And I don't think that being a professor as well as a special needs parent are two jobs that you can hold at the same time. Since the main *reason* that I won't be in a child-having position until at least my mid-30s is the professor career path that I'm on... yeah, you see where I'm going with this.
Even if a stable marriage and a great paying job with fantastic health insurance dropped in to my lap at this very instant, any biological kids I'd have would still be saddled with my legacy of depression, anxiety, crappy vision, crappy skin, and even crappier teeth. (What's that joke about "choose your parents well"?)
So: I think I may want kids, but I don't know if having them come out of my own uterus would be in anyone's best interests.
In the past year, I've started reading some blogs that have to do with the foster care system in America, both from the foster-parent and -child side of things. There are a lot of crappy foster parents, and there are a lot of foster kids who need better-than-average parenting. I feel like this is an area where one couple can have a really big effect on other peoples' lives. It's like the ripple effect, you know? Sure, maybe you only help out 3 kids, but then think about how much better those 3 kids will do once they're out on their own. Just 3 fewer foster kids who end up on the streets when they age out at 18, 3 fewer kids who end up turning to drugs or crime to cope with things, 3 more kids who finish high school and get a college education and are able to conduct their lives with dignity and a sense of agency. Think of how many people those 3 kids could help, rather than harm, if someone did a good-enough job of raising them. Think about what a difference that would make in their own parenting, should they go down that path. I know one set of parents can't help all the world's kids, but just think: what if you help even one? In addition to all of the cool moments that parents have with any kids ("Wow, he's so sweet to his little sister!" or "Wow, she said something so insightful and true!" or "Wow, my baby's getting so good at writing her letters!"), you'd also know that... I don't know exactly how to put it, but it seems especially important to me to parent kids whose own bio-families have failed them. It seems like many of humanity's problems stem from that specific failure. So much pain comes into the world just from that. It's amazing that anything at all can be done to ameliorate that damage, really, which is why I'm excited to try.
Okay, so: we've established that I'd like to have kids, that I probably won't be having any bio-kids of my own, and that I'd like to be a foster/adoptive parent. This leads (finally) to the question that's been kicking around in my head:
How do you not fuck up as an adoptive/foster parent if you've never had any bio-kids of your own to practice the "basic" aspects of parenting on?
And, as a corollary to that question: how can I get more practice taking care of kids in the meantime?
I have never babysat, ever. My line of work NEVER brings me into contact with kids. Okay, so maybe I should go volunteer with kids, but... who's going to let a single, 20-something grad student with absolutely no experience with kids be in charge of theirs? Not only because I might turn out to be incompetent, but also because of the whole "You are a little *too* excited and determined to hang out with little kids, ifyaknowwhatImean" worry. Like, I want to practice dealing with kids, and to make damned good and sure that having kids of my own is something I think I actually can handle, but how do I go about doing that? This is what I need your advice on.
That, and what the requirements (income, time, location, etc.) typically are to get licensed as a foster parent.
Thanks for any advice you can give! This is all a long way in the future, but I feel like it's time to start planning and collecting information on this topic, because it's really kind of a big deal-- not just for me, but (even more so) for any kids I'd be raising, and for the partner I might be raising them with.
Short version:
If/when I ever get married, I think I'd like to adopt and/or foster kids, with a particular preference for sibling-pairs or groups. How do I go about preparing for that?
Much longer version:
For a long time, I felt like I would never, ever, ever want to have kids. This largely stemmed from the way my own mom seemed to feel about raising me. She told me many, many times over the years how hard, unrewarding, and draining raising me was-- and yet there was only one of me to contend with, and I was a pretty smart and well-behaved kid. (I was not perfect, and yes I threw some epic tantrums, but I think I was also pretty sweet and considerate and I definitely stayed out of trouble. And I did well academically. God Lord, if there's one thing I know I did well, it was academics. That, and abiding by rules.)
I never got the impression that raising me ever gave her any feelings of delight or pride or wonder, unlike the way so many other mothers seem to talk about their kids and parenting experiences. It seemed like all I did was misbehave and ruin her life. It often felt like just tolerating my presence in her life was more than she, or any sane person, could be expected to handle.
When I tried to square this with the fact that I was, by every objective standard, a pretty good, normal kid, the conclusion I came to was: kids are really, really hard. You shouldn't have them unless you're willing to live in hell and never have any fun or get to do anything you want to do for 18 years (or more if you're dealing with multiple kids). Don't have kids unless you never want to have any money or savings or time or rest or peace of mind or any kind of decent relationship with your partner or anyone else. Don't have kids unless you're willing to put up with someone you hold in complete contempt for nearly 2 decades. Don't have kids unless you're willing to give up all happiness and independence and sense of agency for the rest of your life, and get nothing in return.
My perspective on this has evolved in the past few years. I've started to wrap my head around the fact that *I* did *not* ruin my parents financially. I did not make them hate each other. I actually do believe, now, that I was a good kid. I believe that I was the kind of kid who brought delight into peoples' lives, and that I could often be a joy to be around. I believe I gave my parents many, many things to be very proud of.
I've also started to see that the way my mom felt isn't normal, or maybe even typical. First, because I now know several people around my age (or a bit older) who have kids, and they talk about parenting and their kids and... I mean, they don't sugarcoat the fact that it's exhausting, and that there are more bodily fluids involved than one might ideally like, and that it cuts into your weekend carousing routine. But they don't seem bitter about it. They seem excited and happy to have kids, and to get to know their kids as people in and of themselves. They seem honored to be able to teach and protect their kids. They seem to, well... *like* their kids, and they don't seem to regret becoming parents.
Second, it's because I've started to have more interactions with kids, myself, and I find that I always feel honored and excited to interact with young people. I've yet to find myself feeling bitter at a kid, or even at any of my college-aged students. (The student-thing seems relevant because teaching feels a LOT like parenting, to me. I may not be the best judge of that, but something about it seems really similar.)
The lady next door has two daughters. One's about 11, and the other is 7 or 8, I think. The new downstairs neighbors have a boy, too. He's about 9 or 10. From time to time, I see these kids around and say "Hi!" and ask how they're doing, or what they're up to, or whether those are Sponge Bob crocs they're wearing, or whatever. You know, just talking to them like you would anybody else.
And it's amazing-- these kids are so smart. And they are so emotionally honest. You always know exactly where you stand with kids. There's none of that nerve-wracking second guessing that's always present (for me, at least) with adults. Even if they hate you, you at least know.
And that's just with the older kids. When it comes to babies and toddlers-- man. It's so crazy and wonderful when they trust you. They are SO INTERESTING. You can watch their minds being built, and it's so amazing. There is nothing more interesting than watching a little kid in the process of learning or understanding something. Seriously, NOTHING. It is so, so cool. The best thing is when you, yourself, are able to teach them something, to hand them the keys to the skills they so obviously want to master (talking, walking, throwing water balloons, you name it). It is such a power-rush, but not in a bad way, I think. I'd never realized how powerful the ability to understand someone and to make them happy is until I began TAing and interacting with really young kids. That's the kind of power I mean-- the power to do something really, really good for another human being. I'd never realized before that I was anywhere close enough to being a good enough person to be able to do that.
Even when they get fussy and have tantrums, I haven't found myself thinking "Arg, this kid is such an asshole!" Rather, I find myself thinking "Wow, I really want to know what's upsetting that kid so much." Like, my reaction is to want to get inside their head, and maybe to then help to reassure them and teach them how to regulate themselves so that they don't have to feel so upset about not getting a cookie or whatever. I don't feel bitter; I feel curious and kind of protective.
So, anyway: now that I more than half-believe that it really is possible to enjoy parenting (at least sometimes), I find myself reconsidering my no-child policy. I think I could actually be a pretty good parent, since I care a lot about taking care of other people, have decent empathy, feel nothing but *respect* for kids (this has surprised me, but it's really true), and have the ability to have my shit together when other people are counting on me. But more importantly, I'm starting to think that having kids could be kind of *fun*, at least sometimes. Maybe I will wake up some days feeling really, really glad that they're in the world. Maybe they'd even love *me*, too. Maybe they'd be glad I existed, too. (Who knew such things were possible? Apparently they are.) Instead of ruining my life, maybe they'd make life richer and more interesting and more meaningful. Maybe. I mean, I have no illusions about how hard and unpleasant raising a kid can be, but maybe...
Maybe I want to have kids. But that brings us to the next problem: pregnancy.
As you know, I'm on an SSRI. On the very rare occasions that I've gone without taking my meds for two days in a row, it makes a big difference. Some people can do a year or 6 months on an anti-depressant, come off of it, and be pretty much cured of their chemical imbalances. Some people, though, never manage to get back to neurotypical on their own. Due to the severity and duration of my depression (half my life by the time I got on meds, remember), I suspect I'll be on meds until I die. Also, I just have this sense about my body... Like, you know when you go to the doctor and they say "you could have this or that?" and you just sort of know you've got "this" and not "that"? It's like that. I just sense that I'm going to be on these drugs long past my child bearing years. I do not think I could go 9 months, or longer, without them. I suspect that could end up being fatal, even before you factor in all the hormone induced mood swings that pregnancy entails. If I got pregnant, I'd already be giving up all of my coping mechanisms that come in liquid or cigarette forms. But 9 months without an SSRI (or longer! remember, post-birth blues can be killer! Also, breastfeeding...) seems like a really big risk for me, personally.
SSRIs can cause birth defects. I looked up the stats on it. The heart-valve thing? Very low odds, and even if it does happen, it's very easy to fix. Same with the lung thing. But in recent years, a growing body of evidence has started to indicate that SSRIs may also cause autism in developing fetuses. And no one knows, yet, what the odds are on that one.
Even if I weren't on any meds, I'm already 27. I very likely won't be in a position to have kids of my own until I'm in my mid-thirties. By that age, my eggs would already be plenty error-prone. And I don't think that being a professor as well as a special needs parent are two jobs that you can hold at the same time. Since the main *reason* that I won't be in a child-having position until at least my mid-30s is the professor career path that I'm on... yeah, you see where I'm going with this.
Even if a stable marriage and a great paying job with fantastic health insurance dropped in to my lap at this very instant, any biological kids I'd have would still be saddled with my legacy of depression, anxiety, crappy vision, crappy skin, and even crappier teeth. (What's that joke about "choose your parents well"?)
So: I think I may want kids, but I don't know if having them come out of my own uterus would be in anyone's best interests.
In the past year, I've started reading some blogs that have to do with the foster care system in America, both from the foster-parent and -child side of things. There are a lot of crappy foster parents, and there are a lot of foster kids who need better-than-average parenting. I feel like this is an area where one couple can have a really big effect on other peoples' lives. It's like the ripple effect, you know? Sure, maybe you only help out 3 kids, but then think about how much better those 3 kids will do once they're out on their own. Just 3 fewer foster kids who end up on the streets when they age out at 18, 3 fewer kids who end up turning to drugs or crime to cope with things, 3 more kids who finish high school and get a college education and are able to conduct their lives with dignity and a sense of agency. Think of how many people those 3 kids could help, rather than harm, if someone did a good-enough job of raising them. Think about what a difference that would make in their own parenting, should they go down that path. I know one set of parents can't help all the world's kids, but just think: what if you help even one? In addition to all of the cool moments that parents have with any kids ("Wow, he's so sweet to his little sister!" or "Wow, she said something so insightful and true!" or "Wow, my baby's getting so good at writing her letters!"), you'd also know that... I don't know exactly how to put it, but it seems especially important to me to parent kids whose own bio-families have failed them. It seems like many of humanity's problems stem from that specific failure. So much pain comes into the world just from that. It's amazing that anything at all can be done to ameliorate that damage, really, which is why I'm excited to try.
Okay, so: we've established that I'd like to have kids, that I probably won't be having any bio-kids of my own, and that I'd like to be a foster/adoptive parent. This leads (finally) to the question that's been kicking around in my head:
How do you not fuck up as an adoptive/foster parent if you've never had any bio-kids of your own to practice the "basic" aspects of parenting on?
And, as a corollary to that question: how can I get more practice taking care of kids in the meantime?
I have never babysat, ever. My line of work NEVER brings me into contact with kids. Okay, so maybe I should go volunteer with kids, but... who's going to let a single, 20-something grad student with absolutely no experience with kids be in charge of theirs? Not only because I might turn out to be incompetent, but also because of the whole "You are a little *too* excited and determined to hang out with little kids, ifyaknowwhatImean" worry. Like, I want to practice dealing with kids, and to make damned good and sure that having kids of my own is something I think I actually can handle, but how do I go about doing that? This is what I need your advice on.
That, and what the requirements (income, time, location, etc.) typically are to get licensed as a foster parent.
Thanks for any advice you can give! This is all a long way in the future, but I feel like it's time to start planning and collecting information on this topic, because it's really kind of a big deal-- not just for me, but (even more so) for any kids I'd be raising, and for the partner I might be raising them with.