Anyway, THIS article talks about the recent New York Magazine story discussing, basically, how parenting makes us miserable. Or, at least, sucks away the happy. I don't know, something like that, read it yourself, I'm no good at synopsis.
So, this did get me thinking. I've waxed on about my devotion, love, amazement of my children. I've also complained about them too! (uh, see last post). Now, I'm definitely a major supporter of making of the babies. If someone says to me, "well, we're thinking of trying for a baby", seriously, I squeal with delight. I wonder why? I mean, my days are not filled with rainbows, sunshine, perpetual ease. Of course I'm not living a difficult life, either, by NO means. But, you know, I don't just go off at the drop of a hat to do whatever I want, whenever I want with whomever I want. Even the most mundane tasks such as grocery shopping or dental appointments require planning. Often, major planning weeks in advance. I don't stay out late on weekends drinking and having heavy conversations with my friends. No more dance parties to our favorite musicals and carefree cook outs where I can sit in a lawn chair and talk for a full hour about adult topics. Nope. But do I miss that? Well, sometimes. But usually not.
And I was thinking about all this. Am I happier now that much of my freedom has been scrapped in favor of finding perfect playdates and scoping the right preschools? I guess the answer is yes and no.
The day I found out I was pregnant with my son, my entire worldview shifted. Life was no longer about me. Now, granted, I wanted to get pregnant. We were trying, so I can see that that experience might not be shared by every woman who's ever seen the two little lines. But for me, almost thirty years old, married for over five years, and READY (I guess?), it was what I had wanted to happen. Well, I remember the extreme joy. EXTREME joy. I've never felt like that before in my life. Then, my first ultrasound. No heartbeat, abnormal yolk sack. I was told I was either too early, or about to miscarry. Just like that. Did they not know that this had shaken my world? I was no longer me. I was "me + someone else". I was in emotional agony for two weeks, basically waiting for the blood to show up. It never did, and my second ultrasound, shaking and hoping and terrified, there he was, blinking away. SUCH happiness. Elation. Joy. Like the Babble article's author describes, never in my life have I experienced these highs and lows of emotion.
After my son was born, I felt a simple peace and contentment that I had never known. Suddenly I wasn't looking for the way to make my mark on the world anymore. I felt as if I already had. I stopped the perpetual seeking that I had previously carried with me my whole life. I was continuing on the simple and awesome tract of life by giving life to someone new. Now, I am not suggesting that all that was "me", and all the things I liked to do, thought about, aspired to, simply disappeared. I was still there, but my life was suddenly different. The small stuff actually became small stuff, and the big stuff was my family. And for now, this seems to be the holding pattern.
When we tried again for number two, it was no less amazing to find out I was pregnant. The "me + she" that followed was no less special or unique. The joy of adding another child to our family added to the completeness of our little family. Of course, two children meant a LOT more insanity, less time for me to do what I want, but I knew that this was only temporary. All too fast they are becoming more self sufficient, needing me less.
But, back to happiness. When I see my children experience life in a new way, watch that joy cross their face for the first time, it is hard to match that feeling. On the flip side, I've also never felt so much fear and worry over the possibility of losing them, that sometimes it has been hard for me to dig myself out of a vortex of negative and fearful thoughts.
Truly, for me, having children has been the most intense experience of my life so far. Life is harder and better at the same time. It's not the easiest feeling to explain. I am sure that if I never had children, either by choice, or not, I would surely find great joy and happiness in the experience of whatever that life would have held for me. I enjoy my children. Moments after they piss me off to no end, I am enjoying them, their smile, their smell, their curiosity, their happiness. When I think about the possibility of a third (and last) baby, I literally well up with emotion. I feel the clench in my heart at the happy thought of a new baby. Another sibling for my children to squeal with, run around the house with, fight with and lean on as they become older and begin to find their own happiness and place in the world.
1 comment:
Cat, I love reading your blogs. This one spoke to me. Thank you. I need to make my family the big stuff and everything else the small things.
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