On having kids...
My little nephew slept in the bathroom last night--kept the toilet within easy reach. He had been drifting in and out most of the day, sick and weak on the couch. I knew what that felt like, that long wait for the vomit to percolate. That's a long few hours, that churning, the chills, the uncomfortable nervous leg twitching you do to distract yourself. The flu sucks. He's just seven. Do you remember when you were small enough to curl into the fetal position and your whole body could fit on a standard bed pillow, like a mattress? He's just a tiny bit bigger than that. He's beautiful. Perfect. Last night his little cheeks were fiery red, and he lay curled up on the bathmat, a cold washcloth across his forehead, waiting.
And I wanted to cry. I don't know how I would be as a mother. I periodically think about this. I never wanted to have children, but recently I have wondered what it would feel like to be in a loving union that produced a little human. Part of it is having had such an intimate connection with Glenn, who had children..my M.O. is empathy, and I couldn't in that case. A new man I've been getting to know also has a child. He's tormented in some ways, intricate and delicate and complicated. I can identify with these aspects, but I can only just imagine what range of emotions comes along with being a parent. I mean, it has to be a huge part of your life. I imagine it's more than that, not a part but a wholesale change, a new foundation of sorts. How could I legitimately connect then, when my foundation is pier and beam and he's slab? So. I recognize that part of my infatuation is simply wishing to understand. But there's something else. I was late this month. Really late. I wasn't extremely worried about this, because vasectomy + the pill = very very effective method of birth control... but I am never late. And I started wondering about the miracle (sorry for the word choice, I can't think of something comparable here) of life. I thought about what a miracle it would be if I were pregnant with Glenn's child. Honestly I liked living in that space for a bit, in the warmth of the potential of having created a miracle. (Of course I am not pregnant, and thank the universe for that.) But that's the backdrop for my thoughts of late.
So here's this sweet little child, sick, and I'm on the verge of tears over it, and then there's his mom. .. she's a rock. The last thing a sick child needs is a mom who is crying over it. Watching my sister confidently manage the situation stripped me of any thoughts I might have had of being capable of motherhood. And then like many other occasions, I left the thoughts lingering there to return to my life, "Better to babysit than to have your own"; but the anxious sadness of uncertainty was my steady companion the rest of the day.
And I wanted to cry. I don't know how I would be as a mother. I periodically think about this. I never wanted to have children, but recently I have wondered what it would feel like to be in a loving union that produced a little human. Part of it is having had such an intimate connection with Glenn, who had children..my M.O. is empathy, and I couldn't in that case. A new man I've been getting to know also has a child. He's tormented in some ways, intricate and delicate and complicated. I can identify with these aspects, but I can only just imagine what range of emotions comes along with being a parent. I mean, it has to be a huge part of your life. I imagine it's more than that, not a part but a wholesale change, a new foundation of sorts. How could I legitimately connect then, when my foundation is pier and beam and he's slab? So. I recognize that part of my infatuation is simply wishing to understand. But there's something else. I was late this month. Really late. I wasn't extremely worried about this, because vasectomy + the pill = very very effective method of birth control... but I am never late. And I started wondering about the miracle (sorry for the word choice, I can't think of something comparable here) of life. I thought about what a miracle it would be if I were pregnant with Glenn's child. Honestly I liked living in that space for a bit, in the warmth of the potential of having created a miracle. (Of course I am not pregnant, and thank the universe for that.) But that's the backdrop for my thoughts of late.
So here's this sweet little child, sick, and I'm on the verge of tears over it, and then there's his mom. .. she's a rock. The last thing a sick child needs is a mom who is crying over it. Watching my sister confidently manage the situation stripped me of any thoughts I might have had of being capable of motherhood. And then like many other occasions, I left the thoughts lingering there to return to my life, "Better to babysit than to have your own"; but the anxious sadness of uncertainty was my steady companion the rest of the day.