babies

Babies.

I wants them.

They don't necessarily need to come from me in order for me to raise them happily, but I want them. I have often said that how I feel about kids is that the HAVING of them isn't what most interests me as much as the RAISING of them. That part, well, that part I am bout 3 years overdue for getting a chance to do.

It's easy to look at me, and my life, and my age, gender and biology and say this is about some clock that ticks and tocks and tells me what to do. I truly don't think it is. I think instead that a long time ago I decided that having kids may not be possible, likely, safe, or even all that interesting to me, but that raising them was something I really looked forward to. Since my teens I have talked about adopting and so when it became clearer that biology was not in my favor of having I thought that it was probably not a coincidence that I had identified earlier that where the child came from was less important to me than to many others. That being said, I think I understand those who fight hard, and spend time, money and heartbreak after heartbreak to have them. (I have more friends than I can easily reckon who have gone through some pretty serious medical stuff to get pregnant, and because I have friends who are in same-sex couples that means I also have friends who have no choice but to go this route or adopt. ) Raising a child is a massive job, and while the rewards are great, the emotional, financial, and logistical costs are huge too. For some, this is not a job they can feel truly motivated for unless they are plugged into a biological connection. I respect that. We were built to reproduce, after all, so it shouldn't be surprising that biology and reproducing of ones' self is part of the equation for many. It just isn't for me.

I'm not so sure that my genetics are so important to pass on. (Actually, my brothers and I have often remarked I literally and figuratively got the short end of the stick in our family. I try not to blame my parents too much since I was their first and they didn't know what they were doing. ) And my biology seems to agree to a certain degree, by limiting my ability to accomplish that anyways. It's ok by me because I think that what is most interesting about me is my outlook on the world, my capacity to love and guide and teach, and my commitment to keep learning, not what's in my genes. And I think I can pass that on to a child who isn't biologically attached to me. Since I do form deep, loving connections with children who aren't "mine" (and since I've had the ability to notice this by being a nanny, having a foster brother who was very young when I was in my 20's, and meeting other children who are still close to my heart along the way) I think I'm an excellent candidate to adopt.

Except, you know, I'm not because while my head and heart are ready, my life isn't. A lot of my campaign to become healthier, and examine the direction my life and career are about taking hold of what I feel is the right time to have children. I need to keep the things that are working for me while throwing out the things that are empty, more difficult than they should be, or just huge time-wasters or energy-drainers for me. In the end, it is about wanting to get more ready for kids and having more to offer them, if I'm being very truthful.

I've been patient, I've picked out people I thought would be good parents. And yet, mysteriously, although I thought I might have kids by now, I don't. This is hard for me to swallow. I always had a plan (and you know how I feel about plans) that if I ended up alone I would just go for it and be a single parent. And so it seems like now is the time . . . so, why no babies?

There are logistical issues, like the fact that I work too much, and yet don't make enough. Also, my schedule changes from day to day and week to week, and that doesn't allow me much stability. And I believe kids really need stability and structure. And maybe just as importantly, the kind of mom I want to be requires having more time than I have now. I want to be the mom who can cook dinners at home, play, and read every night. I want to be a mom that can stay home when my kid is sick and needs to stay home. I want my kids to have parents who actively seek opportunities for them to be exposed to new things, learn, and be stimulated. I want to take my kids to the library each week for story times and picking out new books, and I want to know where the local Children's museum is so we can go often. And right now, my job doesn't nurture me to be that kind of person for myself, much less anyone else in my charge.

The bigger problem is that . . . I'm scared. I think all parents are scared, but single parents seem to live in a perpetual state of survival mode.

Before I seem to be a complete wuss, let me say this. I've done my homework on this. By which I mean I have spent a lot of time with my friends who have kids. The few friends I have who have arrived at single parent-hood did it through circumstance, not choice. And they get a lot of help from extended family. I don't really have that option.

And all of the rest of my mommy and daddy friends? Well, they are amazingly happy to be at this point in their life, but not shy about sharing the hardships. There is, of course, a lot of talk about the loss of sleep. But also talk about expense. And the struggle it is for the couple to enjoy each other and their relationship. The new worries, thoughts, and plans. The time. The time. The time.

I have friends who have one parent home with their child, and those who go back to work within 6-8 weeks. I have friends whose children are adopted, and friends who struggled for years to get pregnant. I have friends who are married and raising children, and those who are together but not married. I have friends whose marriages are not recognized in my country (for which I am deeply ashamed and angered). Regardless of how they make their family, everyone tells me they are constantly thoughtful about whether or not they are giving their children enough - enough time, enough attention, enough resources, enough good role models and experiences.

My friends who are at home with their children feel simultaneously blessed and privileged to be able to do it, and guilty that they aren't working. They are worried that this time "off" will be counted against them when they do go back to work and anxious what their children are learning about gender roles and who stays home vs. who goes to work. Meanwhile, my friends who go back to work are tired, run down, and always carrying the guilt of feeling they neither giving enough time to their jobs or their children.  I hear it from the two mommy families, from the moms and dads alike, from all of them. It seems it feels to them like no matter what they do, there are mis-steps and very often the concern of not enough of themselves to go around.

So, how will it be for my children? Likely adopted, and thus in even greater need of time and attention to bond. I can't be in such a rush to bring the children home that will someday be the children I raise that I overlook that. I have to think about the fact that I struggle to find time to unload the dishwasher or the stability in my schedule to eat regular meals and that my children will need clean dishes and food every day. (I know, kids are sooo demanding!)

It's hard for me to wait. I'm actually a pretty patient person (despite what my family thinks of me, I am willing to wait, put work in, and be determined for a long time when it's worth it to me). But I've been waiting since my 20's. And in my 20's I felt like, "ohhh, it's ok. I'm only 26, 27, 28." Now it feels like alarm bells going off every time I pass an adorable baby in the store, or see cute little clothes, or when the next person I know is expecting. Which, honestly, is just about everyone at this point. I love shopping for gifts for them. I really do. Because I love them, and I want their babies to know love and support and resources. (It is my deep belief that children can never have too many people loving them. and that their parents need a community of love and support too. It takes a village, yes, but that same village needs to be there for the parents too, and so, we all need to be there for each other to support in the difficult times and to love and celebrate in the good ones) I've made a fine art of it baby-shopping, actually. It isn't a case of, "I'm happy for _______ BUT . . . ." It's very much, "I'm happy for ___________ AND I wish I could do this too. Now please." With each baby shower, with every birth announcement, I am glad and rejoice for my friends and co-workers. AND I feel also a deep stinging reminder of the thing I most want and haven't achieved.

So, I really don't feel like I can rush right out and bring home a kid. But I wish it were otherwise. In the meantime, I need to take care of myself, and keep this hope in my heart: that when the time is right, I will have children and be a better parent than I could be now.