Anyone who is friends with a parent has probably at least occasionally found herself stuck in the middle of a conversation about potty-training, about children vomiting in their bed in the middle of the night, about the embarrassing thing Johnny said in public, etc. Anyone who is facebook friends with a parent is probably inundated with inappropriate newsfeed items containing hour-by-hour updates on potty training, gory details of a child’s illness (what he has, how often he has vomited), or complaints about how difficult life is with children.
If you dare call these folks out on their overshare or their complaints, you will likely be admonished with the all-knowing, “Just wait until you have kids,” or, “You wouldn’t understand unless you had children of your own.” Well, you know what? In the years I have worked at the animal shelter, fostered cats, kittens, and dogs in my home, and raised animals of my own, I have been pooped on, peed on, diarrhea-ed on, drooled on, barfed on, sneezed on, pussed on, snotted on, had earmite waste shaken all over me while cleaning ears, had upset cats “express” their anal glands at me, been bitten by fleas, scratched, nipped, and covered in filthy pawprints, just to name a few things.
I have dealt with coccidia, other intestinal parasites, fleas, lice, mange, ear mites, upper respiratory infections, coronaviruses, eye infections. I have administered countless medications in various forms. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to give a cat a pill? I have spread antibiotic ointment on pus-covered, oozing incisions. I have cleaned infected puncture wounds. I have had to syringe-feed kittens who were too sick or too young to eat on their own, stick my fingers in kitty mouths to force-feed nutritional supplements, and get up in the middle of the night to attend to animals in distress.
I have picked goobers out of eyes and noses, clipped the toenails of flailing felines, and cleaned dried feces out of many an animal’s fur.
And through all this, I never complain. When I pulled a roundworm out of my foster kitten’s rear end, did I feel the need to tell all of facebook about it? When I stepped on a hairball that was left on the rug, did I complain about it in your newsfeed? When Fluffy barged into my bathroom and accidentally jumped into the toilet before I could flush it, did I race to the computer to tell everyone the story? When I scrubbed diarrhea off the wall, did I post a status update telling everyone how hard it is to take care of sick kittens?
No one hears about the drudgery of me scooping litterboxes, picking vomit out of the carpet, breaking up cat fights, or trying to silence cat noises at 4am, because you know what? I don’t mind it. All of the hard work, all of the grossness, I take it in stride. Sometimes what I do is quite gag-worthy, but I love taking care of animals. I have come to believe that I love my animals and enjoy caring for them more than most parents love and enjoy caring for their children.
Now I know what you’re thinking… “But animals don’t keep you up all night long for days on end,” or, “Animals don’t talk back,” or, “Animals are far less stressful to raise than children,” or, “Animals express greater appreciation for what you do than a child will,” or, “Kittens are much easier to toilet train.” Eh, maybe, maybe not. I certainly won’t argue with anyone who implies that animals are much more wonderful than children. But even so, whatever gross thing that a parent has to complain about, I have probably dealt with something grosser. And you’ll never hear me complain.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Having a Child at All Costs
A recent Time magazine article reports on studies that link infertility treatments to autism. Apparently, women who have undergone infertility treatments have much higher rates of children with autism. While one study adjusted for the mother's age and ruled that out as the cause for autism, it is still unclear whether the fertility drugs are to blame, or the infertility itself, or other factors associated with fertility treatments, such as premature birth or multiple births.
And autism is not the only risk. IVF is also linked to birth defects and genetic defects, not to mention the physical and psychological toll that it can take on the mother.
It saddens me that our society idolizes motherhood and the passing on of our own genetic material to the point that we are willing to risk anything and everything to have a child. We are willing to create more children with a much higher risk of developmental disorders and birth defects while 140,000,000+ orphans -- many perfectly healthy -- cry for homes. We are willing to throw away thousands of dollars on this risk while children all over the world starve. We thumb our noses at nature and then react with surprise when nature strikes back.
And while I'm rambling... I wish our culture showed a little more compassion for people struggling with infertility. Instead of sweeping them away in the dogma of "you MUST have a child at all costs!", what if we showed them acceptance and alternatives? Maybe we could stop treating them as if they have no value unless their "disease" is cured, and focus on the other contributions they make to humanity.
I suppose I just don't understand the cult of procreation and the concept of risking it all to create a mini-me...
And autism is not the only risk. IVF is also linked to birth defects and genetic defects, not to mention the physical and psychological toll that it can take on the mother.
It saddens me that our society idolizes motherhood and the passing on of our own genetic material to the point that we are willing to risk anything and everything to have a child. We are willing to create more children with a much higher risk of developmental disorders and birth defects while 140,000,000+ orphans -- many perfectly healthy -- cry for homes. We are willing to throw away thousands of dollars on this risk while children all over the world starve. We thumb our noses at nature and then react with surprise when nature strikes back.
And while I'm rambling... I wish our culture showed a little more compassion for people struggling with infertility. Instead of sweeping them away in the dogma of "you MUST have a child at all costs!", what if we showed them acceptance and alternatives? Maybe we could stop treating them as if they have no value unless their "disease" is cured, and focus on the other contributions they make to humanity.
I suppose I just don't understand the cult of procreation and the concept of risking it all to create a mini-me...
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Reason for Being Childfree, or Just a Fringe Benefit?
When I read articles and editorials, I generally try to avoid reading the “Comments” section because of the deluge of poorly written, misinformed, or otherwise ignorant drivel that many people post. However, at the end of an online article I read on childfreedom, I broke my rule and found this little gem (I need to paraphrase here, but I am not too far off from the original quote): “…people want to be selfish and not have children so that they can sleep in on the weekends...” Now, I know that some people leave comments that are intended to be sarcastic or ironic, but from the context, I believe that this comment was serious. Mind you, there was nothing in the article or in the nearby comments about sleeping in or about selfish reasons for not having children. It seemed that the author of this comment could think of no reason for childfreedom other than the ability to sleep in on weekends.
I began pondering (as I so frequently do) why people choose to be childfree, and more specifically, I asked myself, What is a reason for being childfree versus a fringe benefit?
Certainly there may be people out there who choose childfreedom for a reason as “frivolous” as wanting to sleep in. Personally, I have not encountered such people (and even so, we all have our own physical needs -- who am I to decide how important sleep and rest should be to someone else?). In addition, research has shown that people’s reasons for not having children tend to be unselfish, unlike the generally selfish reasons people give for pursuing parenthood.
Nevertheless, I think some of us childfree do tend to rave about the fringe benefits rather than our actual reasons for childfreedom, and that may be why some people get the impression that we are selfish. As an early articulator, I was quite unaware of some of the fringe benefits when I made my decision, so I can guarantee that I was not motivated by “selfish” reasons like wanting to sleep in, wanting to spend all of my money on myself, and not wanting stretch marks. I took the time to make a list of my reasons, a list that started with the simple “I just don’t want them” (my first reason from a very young age) and has grown as I have grown and as I have had my choices questioned.
While this is probably not a comprehensive list, I think it is a decent summary.
And, yes, I love being able to sleep in!
But just remember, the reasons came long before the fringe benefits, and the reasons are good.
Do you distinguish between reasons and fringe benefits? What are your reasons for being childfree? What are your fringe benefits?
I began pondering (as I so frequently do) why people choose to be childfree, and more specifically, I asked myself, What is a reason for being childfree versus a fringe benefit?
Certainly there may be people out there who choose childfreedom for a reason as “frivolous” as wanting to sleep in. Personally, I have not encountered such people (and even so, we all have our own physical needs -- who am I to decide how important sleep and rest should be to someone else?). In addition, research has shown that people’s reasons for not having children tend to be unselfish, unlike the generally selfish reasons people give for pursuing parenthood.
Nevertheless, I think some of us childfree do tend to rave about the fringe benefits rather than our actual reasons for childfreedom, and that may be why some people get the impression that we are selfish. As an early articulator, I was quite unaware of some of the fringe benefits when I made my decision, so I can guarantee that I was not motivated by “selfish” reasons like wanting to sleep in, wanting to spend all of my money on myself, and not wanting stretch marks. I took the time to make a list of my reasons, a list that started with the simple “I just don’t want them” (my first reason from a very young age) and has grown as I have grown and as I have had my choices questioned.
While this is probably not a comprehensive list, I think it is a decent summary.
- To my best recollection, knowing at such a young age that I did not want children was probably due to my general dislike of being around children (as a child myself, all I ever wanted to do was grow up) and to the horror I felt toward pregnancy and childbirth.
- On a related note, I have no urge to reproduce. No biological clock ticking.
- As I have stated before, I felt a call to take care of the world’s orphans instead of bearing children. I used to think adoption was in my future, but I’ve begun thinking that other things are my mission, like child sponsorship and support of other people’s adoptions.
- I don’t like being around many people, even my own relatives. I’m somewhat of a loner, and I like to spend time by myself. No, I need to spend time by myself to maintain my sanity.
- I love my husband and I cannot bear the thought of anyone coming between us. A child would divert my attention from him.
- I already feel complete. I don’t need motherhood to make me feel better about myself, and I don’t have a void in my life that I need to fill.
- I adore my career, and I have been career-minded ever since I chose my profession when I was 12 years old. And as a perfectionist, I want to be the best I can in my career. A child could only make me less of a professor/colleague and would distract me from my ministry to my students.
- I need a significant amount of peace and quiet. I could not abide the commotion that comes with children.
- I am independent, and I avoid relationships with anyone who is too needy. This is why I have cats instead of dogs; this is why the few friends I have are educated and talented people who are self-sufficient; this is why I fell in love with a free-thinking and free-spirited artist.
And, yes, I love being able to sleep in!
But just remember, the reasons came long before the fringe benefits, and the reasons are good.
Do you distinguish between reasons and fringe benefits? What are your reasons for being childfree? What are your fringe benefits?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
My Condolences
My cousin just announced a pregnancy. While the rest of my family gushed with congratulations and other words of excitement, I could not be less enthusiastic.
Because she has been married for several years now and I had never heard any talk of children, I suppose I was holding out a little hope that she and her husband were childfree. Because she is an avid runner (I think she has averaged something like 1-2 marathons a year for the past 10 years), I suppose I am worried that she will trade in her running shorts for a pair of "mom jeans." Because she has always been so interesting to me, I suppose I am concerned that her facebook updates will become as monotonous and mommy-centered as her sister's have (yeah, I had to hide her sister on my newsfeed because I couldn't take it anymore). I don't want to see my cousin go from "cool" to "mom."
In fact, all I wanted to say to her was, "My condolences!"
But I realize that some of those condolences are for me... and for the 140,000,000 orphans out there. Perhaps I should sponsor another child so that I can pick up my cousin's slack.
Because she has been married for several years now and I had never heard any talk of children, I suppose I was holding out a little hope that she and her husband were childfree. Because she is an avid runner (I think she has averaged something like 1-2 marathons a year for the past 10 years), I suppose I am worried that she will trade in her running shorts for a pair of "mom jeans." Because she has always been so interesting to me, I suppose I am concerned that her facebook updates will become as monotonous and mommy-centered as her sister's have (yeah, I had to hide her sister on my newsfeed because I couldn't take it anymore). I don't want to see my cousin go from "cool" to "mom."
In fact, all I wanted to say to her was, "My condolences!"
But I realize that some of those condolences are for me... and for the 140,000,000 orphans out there. Perhaps I should sponsor another child so that I can pick up my cousin's slack.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Idolatry Revisited
I must admit that I’m not much of a reader, but on a recent airplane trip, I took the time to reread The Great Divorce by C.S. Lewis. It had been years since I first read the book, and I had forgotten how wonderful it was. In particular, there were certain passages that became more meaningful to me as a 35-year-old childfree person than they were when I was a 22-year-old childfree person, now that I have more experience with people’s idolization of their children and many women’s arrogance and obsession with their motherhood.
For anyone who has not read the book, the narrator of the story describes taking a bus ride from hell (or purgatory) to heaven. Upon arrival in heaven, he witnesses the response his fellow passengers have to the reality of heaven and observes their interactions with the friends and relatives who greet them. Many of these passengers are displeased with what they find and are unwilling to shed their earthly baggage for the joy of heaven. As I read these accounts, I kept thinking, “My gosh, I know this person,” or, “I could have been that other person.” But the one that Lewis nailed with the greatest poignancy for me was the mother, Pam. Pam was disappointed to be met by someone called Reginald rather than by her son Michael. As Pam crabbed to Reginald about wanting to see Michael, Reginald tried to explain to her how things worked in heaven and that she would see Michael in due time… but first she needed to seek God. Pam retorted, “You wouldn’t talk like that if you were a Mother.” I loved Reginald’s reply: “You mean, if I were only a mother. But there is no such thing as being only a mother. You exist as Michael’s mother only because you first exist as God’s creature. That relation is older and closer.”
When Pam continued to argue that she gave up everything to make her son happy, Reginald informed her, “Human beings can’t make one another really happy for long…[God] wanted your merely instinctive love for your child (tigresses share that, you know!) to turn into something better. He wanted you to love Michael as He understands love… But there was, it seems, no chance of that in your case. The instinct was uncontrolled and fierce and monomaniac.”
After a while, Pam grew increasingly frustrated and demanded to see her son because, “He is mine, do you understand? Mine, mine, mine, for ever and ever.” When Reginald protested that “nothing can be yours by nature,” Pam was incredulous. I think I may have actually witnessed the following interchange in real life:
I suppose I felt some level of comfort knowing that, so many years ago, Lewis must have encountered the same kind of obsessed and self-righteous women that I have encountered… that it isn’t just me… that this isn’t some new phenomenon. And I could not help but be amused at the continual clever rebuttals to what the obsessed mother had to say. Ever the thinker, Lewis has unexpectedly given me some ideas for replies the next time I’m bingoed.
For anyone who has not read the book, the narrator of the story describes taking a bus ride from hell (or purgatory) to heaven. Upon arrival in heaven, he witnesses the response his fellow passengers have to the reality of heaven and observes their interactions with the friends and relatives who greet them. Many of these passengers are displeased with what they find and are unwilling to shed their earthly baggage for the joy of heaven. As I read these accounts, I kept thinking, “My gosh, I know this person,” or, “I could have been that other person.” But the one that Lewis nailed with the greatest poignancy for me was the mother, Pam. Pam was disappointed to be met by someone called Reginald rather than by her son Michael. As Pam crabbed to Reginald about wanting to see Michael, Reginald tried to explain to her how things worked in heaven and that she would see Michael in due time… but first she needed to seek God. Pam retorted, “You wouldn’t talk like that if you were a Mother.” I loved Reginald’s reply: “You mean, if I were only a mother. But there is no such thing as being only a mother. You exist as Michael’s mother only because you first exist as God’s creature. That relation is older and closer.”
When Pam continued to argue that she gave up everything to make her son happy, Reginald informed her, “Human beings can’t make one another really happy for long…[God] wanted your merely instinctive love for your child (tigresses share that, you know!) to turn into something better. He wanted you to love Michael as He understands love… But there was, it seems, no chance of that in your case. The instinct was uncontrolled and fierce and monomaniac.”
After a while, Pam grew increasingly frustrated and demanded to see her son because, “He is mine, do you understand? Mine, mine, mine, for ever and ever.” When Reginald protested that “nothing can be yours by nature,” Pam was incredulous. I think I may have actually witnessed the following interchange in real life:
“What? Not my own son, born out of my own body?”The narrator and his heavenly guide eventually move on from Pam and discuss love versus lust and how good love can go bad. The guide muses that there is something about feelings of love that can “make it easier to stop at the natural level and mistake it for the heavenly. Brass is mistaken for gold more easily than clay is.” He later concludes, “The false religion of lust is baser than the false religion of mother-love or patriotism or art: but lust is less likely to be made into a religion.”
“And where is your own body now? Didn’t you know that nature draws to an end?”
“Michael is mine.”
“How yours? You didn’t make him. Nature made him to grow in your body without your will. Even against your will…”
I suppose I felt some level of comfort knowing that, so many years ago, Lewis must have encountered the same kind of obsessed and self-righteous women that I have encountered… that it isn’t just me… that this isn’t some new phenomenon. And I could not help but be amused at the continual clever rebuttals to what the obsessed mother had to say. Ever the thinker, Lewis has unexpectedly given me some ideas for replies the next time I’m bingoed.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Immense Gratitude
One aspect of my life for which I am immensely grateful is the knowledge and understanding I have had of myself, even as a child. This has allowed me great clarity in my major life choices, such as selecting a college, finding a mate, and choosing a career (much of which I described in an earlier post). But what has been impressed upon me most heavily lately is the blessing of being an “early articulator” of my childfree life.
As I participate in online discussion forums, read the blogs of others, and peruse articles and editorials throughout the web, my heart breaks for all of the people who have struggled with being childfree. From spouses who change their minds, to people who are still on the fence but worrying that time is running out, to people who have only recently realized they are childfree and now wonder how to tell their parents that they will never be grandparents… there seems to be plenty of pain to go around.
I am grateful that at about 15 years of age I didn’t know any better than to tell people I would never have children. It was just a fact of my life, no surprise to my parents, my husband, my friends, my other family members. I recall one of my aunts (who must have missed that memo) sitting me down a few years after I married and asking me when I was going to have children. I responded very matter-of-factly that I would not be, sort of in a “how-could-you-not-already-know-this?” kind of tone. Perhaps to satiate her, I did express my passion for adoption, and she was quite accepting of that. Really, I have received very little hassle from friends and family, and I credit my years of pointed, pragmatic childfree declarations for this. Mind you, I was never “in your face” about it, but when it came up, it was as nonconfrontational and logical as saying, “No, I will not be moving to Minnesota.”
I am also grateful that, because of my openness, my husband knew I was childfree even before we officially started dating, and he shared the same feelings. Further, when I was ready for a tubal ligation, he fully supported me. I can hardly express the relief I have, knowing that even if one of us did change our mind someday, it is too late. Neither of us can ever be forced to choose between having a baby or ending the marriage over it.
I am grateful for the confidence I had to be sterilized. Nearly five years later, I’m grateful again every day. I have no fear that I will ever regret it, and that surety, that peace, is a blessing. I wish there were a way I could bestow that clarity upon everyone else.
If I were to offer anyone else advice on this, I would encourage two things. First, speak freely and early about not having children, even if you are still unsure. Don’t wait and agonize until you feel you need to blindside someone with this. There is nothing wrong with saying, “I might not want to have children,” or, “I’m pretty certain I don’t want children,” or, “I know I don’t want children.” Of course some people will try to convince you otherwise; listen to them and learn from them, but also listen to the other side and listen to what you believe God is telling you. What’s important is that the discussion has begun, and you don’t need to keep this bottled up inside, worrying about what others might think.
Secondly, make a decision to live your life with no regrets. We all make mistakes, and we all attempt to make the best decisions we can with the information we have at the time. All of us will look back at our lives and wish that such-and-such had been done differently. But always remember, you did the best you could with the resources you had, and those decisions you made have shaped you into the person you are today. And if you look back on a choice and decide it was wrong, forgive yourself and allow yourself to learn from the experience. The fact that I am simply not a regretful kind of person is perhaps the main reason that I have had no fear of sterilization and of being childfree. Making careful, prayerful, informed decisions and standing by them can be very liberating. I wish the same for all of you.
As I participate in online discussion forums, read the blogs of others, and peruse articles and editorials throughout the web, my heart breaks for all of the people who have struggled with being childfree. From spouses who change their minds, to people who are still on the fence but worrying that time is running out, to people who have only recently realized they are childfree and now wonder how to tell their parents that they will never be grandparents… there seems to be plenty of pain to go around.
I am grateful that at about 15 years of age I didn’t know any better than to tell people I would never have children. It was just a fact of my life, no surprise to my parents, my husband, my friends, my other family members. I recall one of my aunts (who must have missed that memo) sitting me down a few years after I married and asking me when I was going to have children. I responded very matter-of-factly that I would not be, sort of in a “how-could-you-not-already-know-this?” kind of tone. Perhaps to satiate her, I did express my passion for adoption, and she was quite accepting of that. Really, I have received very little hassle from friends and family, and I credit my years of pointed, pragmatic childfree declarations for this. Mind you, I was never “in your face” about it, but when it came up, it was as nonconfrontational and logical as saying, “No, I will not be moving to Minnesota.”
I am also grateful that, because of my openness, my husband knew I was childfree even before we officially started dating, and he shared the same feelings. Further, when I was ready for a tubal ligation, he fully supported me. I can hardly express the relief I have, knowing that even if one of us did change our mind someday, it is too late. Neither of us can ever be forced to choose between having a baby or ending the marriage over it.
I am grateful for the confidence I had to be sterilized. Nearly five years later, I’m grateful again every day. I have no fear that I will ever regret it, and that surety, that peace, is a blessing. I wish there were a way I could bestow that clarity upon everyone else.
If I were to offer anyone else advice on this, I would encourage two things. First, speak freely and early about not having children, even if you are still unsure. Don’t wait and agonize until you feel you need to blindside someone with this. There is nothing wrong with saying, “I might not want to have children,” or, “I’m pretty certain I don’t want children,” or, “I know I don’t want children.” Of course some people will try to convince you otherwise; listen to them and learn from them, but also listen to the other side and listen to what you believe God is telling you. What’s important is that the discussion has begun, and you don’t need to keep this bottled up inside, worrying about what others might think.
Secondly, make a decision to live your life with no regrets. We all make mistakes, and we all attempt to make the best decisions we can with the information we have at the time. All of us will look back at our lives and wish that such-and-such had been done differently. But always remember, you did the best you could with the resources you had, and those decisions you made have shaped you into the person you are today. And if you look back on a choice and decide it was wrong, forgive yourself and allow yourself to learn from the experience. The fact that I am simply not a regretful kind of person is perhaps the main reason that I have had no fear of sterilization and of being childfree. Making careful, prayerful, informed decisions and standing by them can be very liberating. I wish the same for all of you.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Childfree Confessions, #7 (nieces/nephews)
I dread the day that either of my siblings has a child.
I consider my brother and sister to be two of my dearest friends, not necessarily because I am related to them but because they are genuinely wonderful and interesting people. Though my sister lives about 450 miles west of me and my brother lives about 450 miles east of me, we make the effort to see each other several times a year and keep up regularly through facebook.
My brother, unmarried and in his thirties, seems to be on the fence about children. At one point he told me that he thought he was now too old to become a father; but his girlfriend is in her late twenties, and she might have the power to convince him otherwise. My younger sister, on the other hand, has long talked about someday having a baby. She is willing to wait for the right man and the right time, but her desire for a child is strong.
Those of you who have read enough of my blog have picked up on the fact that I don’t particularly like children in general, although I would never harm them or wish any harm to come upon them. I cry for the orphans when anyone insists upon having “their own” child, I mourn the loss of relationships, I am saddened by the negative effect parenthood has had on most people I know, and I am disgusted by the idolatrous obsession people have with children. When I imagine either of my siblings having a child, these concerns and feelings become even more poignant, if not frightening. I wonder if I could bear the loss of the friendships we have, and I worry about whether or not I could bond with nieces and nephews.
Over the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons, I caught a glimpse of what could come. My brother adopted a puppy from a rescue organization, and this puppy is the cutest, sweetest, funniest little guy so full of personality. (Don’t even get me started on animals!) My mother, sister, brother, and brother’s girlfriend, and the puppy gathered at my home shortly before Thanksgiving. The puppy needed a great deal of attention as he was still being trained and still needed frequent trips outside; this meant that someone had to have an eye on him at every moment. And with him being so adorable and hilarious, we all wanted to play with him and watch what he would do. An entire evening revolved around watching the puppy bound around the living room, talking about the puppy, listening to the puppy, and thinking about the puppy. After a few hours, I did start to bore of it, and it struck me, “This is what life would be like if one of us brought a child into the picture.” The only difference is that I love animals, but I find children annoying. I could imagine the entire family sitting around the room obsessing about the child while I yawned and wished to be somewhere else.
Selfishly, I hold out some hope that neither of my siblings will have children. My brother loves his dog but has acknowledged the unexpected amount of work involved in caring for him; maybe that will cause my brother to lean further toward the childfree side of the fence. With her career, her world travels, and her lack of interest in dating, I could imagine my sister ending up childless by circumstance, running out of time because her life was so full of other amazing things. Of course, I feel quite conflicted about this. I love her dearly and want the best for her. I would be deeply saddened if she were childless and regretful of it.
I suppose that all I can do for now is cherish the relationships I have with my brother and sister and hope for the best in the future. Their lives do not revolve around my desires, nor should they, and I love them too much to begrudge them any happiness.
I consider my brother and sister to be two of my dearest friends, not necessarily because I am related to them but because they are genuinely wonderful and interesting people. Though my sister lives about 450 miles west of me and my brother lives about 450 miles east of me, we make the effort to see each other several times a year and keep up regularly through facebook.
My brother, unmarried and in his thirties, seems to be on the fence about children. At one point he told me that he thought he was now too old to become a father; but his girlfriend is in her late twenties, and she might have the power to convince him otherwise. My younger sister, on the other hand, has long talked about someday having a baby. She is willing to wait for the right man and the right time, but her desire for a child is strong.
Those of you who have read enough of my blog have picked up on the fact that I don’t particularly like children in general, although I would never harm them or wish any harm to come upon them. I cry for the orphans when anyone insists upon having “their own” child, I mourn the loss of relationships, I am saddened by the negative effect parenthood has had on most people I know, and I am disgusted by the idolatrous obsession people have with children. When I imagine either of my siblings having a child, these concerns and feelings become even more poignant, if not frightening. I wonder if I could bear the loss of the friendships we have, and I worry about whether or not I could bond with nieces and nephews.
Over the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons, I caught a glimpse of what could come. My brother adopted a puppy from a rescue organization, and this puppy is the cutest, sweetest, funniest little guy so full of personality. (Don’t even get me started on animals!) My mother, sister, brother, and brother’s girlfriend, and the puppy gathered at my home shortly before Thanksgiving. The puppy needed a great deal of attention as he was still being trained and still needed frequent trips outside; this meant that someone had to have an eye on him at every moment. And with him being so adorable and hilarious, we all wanted to play with him and watch what he would do. An entire evening revolved around watching the puppy bound around the living room, talking about the puppy, listening to the puppy, and thinking about the puppy. After a few hours, I did start to bore of it, and it struck me, “This is what life would be like if one of us brought a child into the picture.” The only difference is that I love animals, but I find children annoying. I could imagine the entire family sitting around the room obsessing about the child while I yawned and wished to be somewhere else.
Selfishly, I hold out some hope that neither of my siblings will have children. My brother loves his dog but has acknowledged the unexpected amount of work involved in caring for him; maybe that will cause my brother to lean further toward the childfree side of the fence. With her career, her world travels, and her lack of interest in dating, I could imagine my sister ending up childless by circumstance, running out of time because her life was so full of other amazing things. Of course, I feel quite conflicted about this. I love her dearly and want the best for her. I would be deeply saddened if she were childless and regretful of it.
I suppose that all I can do for now is cherish the relationships I have with my brother and sister and hope for the best in the future. Their lives do not revolve around my desires, nor should they, and I love them too much to begrudge them any happiness.
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