Deciding to be a parent

I remember once, a long time ago, when I was in high school, sitting with two of my girlfriends and discussing our future. It is one of those memories that, for whatever reason, sticks with you clearly. We were sitting on the gym bleacher, engaged in a verbal make believe of our future.

I’ll call one of the friends Ann, and the other Sue (although that’s not their real names). Ann and I were talking about the wonderful things we were going to do with our lives, and we didn’t include children.

Sue, on the other hand, was emphatic about wanting children. Ann and I teased that we too would have kids, but we would let Sue take care of them for us, while we were out doing exciting things.

Years later, I heard that Ann had experienced fertility problems, and went to extreme measures to eventually have her children, which she definitely did not send off to Sue.

When I was newly married, I had a malignant tumor removed from my olfactory nerve, and underwent radiation treatment for about six weeks. Facing cancer has a way of forcing us to acknowledge our mortality and puts into perceptive our priorities. It was then I realized how much I did want children.

I don’t believe everyone should have children, not everyone is suited for parenthood. I also don’t believe that children should be the only thing we live for, yet I do believe that for some of us, our children are an essential element in making our lives complete.

One of the poems in Motherhood addresses these feelings:

When there is no longer time to spend,
I shan’t recite the words I’ve penned,
for Saint Peter who shall demand,
that I recount deeds of my hand.

Nor shall I tell of corporate gains,
or of my ride on success’ train.
For those goals which possess us all,
will ultimately measure small.

Instead I’ll tell of all the time,
I spent reciting a nursery rhyme,
and when I rocked my babe till dawn,
or rolled and laughed upon the lawn.

Those acts performed by
father or mother,
will measure far
beyond all others.