What's Your Number?

Truth Thursday

I just finished reading a thoughtful essay by journalist Sarah Wildman on her current life dilemma  – whether to have more than one child.

She notes that having her daughter, now two, was the most wonderful decision she ever made. But she is literally freaked out about the thought of having another baby. And she’s not freaked out by the standard “I don’t know how I could love another child as much as I love my first” quandary.  That’s the easy one to address – because we all know you simply grow a new heart for each child born. 

No, her fears rise from a much more personal crisis – the “how do I reconcile the me I want to be with the mom I will be if I have another child” crisis. It’s a dilemma that touches on so many of the issues modern motherhood grapples with – professional ambition and success, financial capabilities, and perhaps scariest of all -- personal fulfillment in the light of many, many years of subsuming your needs to the needs of others.

I think it was a very brave essay. And no doubt, she will get a lot of moms (and perhaps dads) scolding her with parables about the joys of having multiple children, the importance of providing your first child with siblings, and the selfishness she is exhibiting by even daring to think about her own needs first.

I know. I’ve been there. 

When my oldest son was about 10 months old. I thought I was pregnant, and I felt the same utter fear Sarah talks about. How can I possibly have another child when I’m just getting back into the skin that was mine before I had this baby (although truth be told, that didn’t really happen for many years.) What if it’s twins? How will I ever handle it?  How can I love a baby whose appearance I might actually resent?  And how could I do this to my little boy, who hadn’t had enough of me quite yet to share me? 

It wasn’t that I didn’t want more children (I did) or that I questioned my commitment to being a mom. I just hadn’t realized what a toll becoming a parent would take on my life in so many ways – on my energy levels, my physical being, my mental health, my patience, my finances, my work life, my friendships, my ability to be me in the way I was just getting to know me as a full-fledged adult.

Turns out I wasn’t pregnant at that moment, and I was greatly relieved. It also turns out that when I was pregnant again, happily, about 10 months later, the story would end quite differently from how we expected it to – with months and months of traumatic bed rest and the neonatal death of our infant son.

After that experience, I no longer questioned how having another baby would impact my life, except in that I wanted a baby more than I ever had before. For I knew that only a new baby would heal my broken heart.

I wound up having two more babies, healthy and beautiful, and they did heal my broken heart. And they, along with their big brother, took up every ounce of energy, breath and patience I had for many years. 

Eventually I found a way to balance my work with my family, and even though each suffered for the other at times, it mostly satisfied. And I figured out, as my children got older, that there are ways to incorporate me and my interests into the rhythm of our daily lives. It’s not always easy, but it’s important to me for them to understand that my life and my needs also have a place on the roster. 

So I write. And I work. And I go to photography class. Occasionally I meet friends for lunch. And sometimes I volunteer. All of these things require exqusite scheduling acrobatics and take me away from my family for periods of time. And they are all good for me. I am a better mother when I do these things that interest me (and especially when I work, because I am putting food on our table.)

So while there’s a part of me that wants to tell Sarah that having more than one child is nothing to fear, I know that that’s simply too pat an answer to her question. There is great joy in having more than one child, just as there is great joy in having but one beloved child. But there are prices to be paid in both scenarios.

Just as when you commit to a life partner, you begin to split your mental energies in two, and you learn to take your partner’s priorities into consideration as you contemplate your decisions, so too does your time and energy continue to split as children enter your home, rather like a continuing mitosis experiment.  

And sometimes, much as you love to take care of your family, you’d like to see the whole you come back together again. I know that this will happen sooner than I can imagine (having a teen and a tween, I’m beginning to see the light at the end of the parenting tunnel.) But sometimes I want it now. 

Just last night I attended an event that honored one of the foremothers of the Israeli feminist movement. In addition to being a groundbreaking feminist and organizer, a noted academic and prominent administrator, a scholar of both English and torah, and a beloved public figure, Alice Shalvi had and raised six children.

Six children. She accomplished all of those marvelous things while raising six children. When asked at the event what she was most proud of in her life, her immediate response was, “You mean, besides my children?” 

It was a reminder to me that we CAN continue on our own personal journeys while we are raising our children. We may take some more detours than we’d like, and sometimes it takes a while to get there, but ultimately, we cannot escape our destiny. No matter how many children we have, no matter the number, we are still the person we have always been. 

How lucky for us and our children.

 

 

Photo by Beveryly & Pack via Flickr

 

Comments

[Carol]

And the light at end of the tunnel just takes on different hues as these children become adults - but remain our children. Beautiful essay, Karen.