Bear with me, my epiphany cont.,
My friend M. asked me how I keep my house so clean. “One child,” I answered.
My friend K. asked me how I manage to read so much. “One child,” I replied.
My friend L. asked me how I’m able to be so prolific writing-wise. “One child,” I responded.
My friend H. asked me how I manage to be so patient with Noah. “One child,” I explained.
Yes, gentle reader, the secret to my success is my infertility.
My friend J. is a writer, too, and one of the reasons I like her so much is that when we talk we don’t shy away from talking about hard truths. Recently we were discussing how the size of her family (which is larger than she expected or planned on) limits her ability to do the things that she wanted to do with her life. Does she regret having the children that she has? Of course not. She loves them dearly. But does she regret not having the time to do the things she wanted to do? Of course she does. She’s human. And while she can’t imagine life without her kids, she does envy me just a tiny little bit for the time and freedom that I have.
Wow. That gave me a lot to think about. I’m so used to being sad about not having a baby and I’m used to assuming that I cut a pitiful figure for my less fertility-challenged friends. But here was J. saying that while she has sympathy for me, she doesn’t pity me. She doesn’t see me as a sad story at all. She sees the two of us as good women struggling to live our lives well despite circumstances beyond our control.
Let’s put all the cards on the table. Would I rather have a writing career that’s really on the move or would I rather have a baby? Now remember, these things are theoretical. It’s not like Rumpelstiltskin is standing there offering me a book contract with one hand and taking a baby from my arms with the other. So which would I rather have? The answer comes pretty easily; I want both. Ok, since I can’t have both, maybe I could be happy with having just the one right now. Maybe instead of resenting this life I’m living I could even be grateful.
It’s scary to take that step. It feels a little like slamming a door in my hypothetical child’s face. People think you’re rejecting real live children if you say, “I’ve decided to be ok if I only have this one kid” or, in the case of primary infertility, ” I’ve decided to be ok if I don’t ever have any kids.” I remember reading the blog of a woman who struggled to have children for years and she finally gave up and let go. She was writing a list of the things that she was able to do and have because she did *not* have children. Someone wrote in her comments that having children was just so wonderful that all of the experiences of the diarist couldn’t compare to it. Sounded awfully defensive to me (not to mention mean). I didn’t realize that life was a contest and whoever has babies wins. Obviously the diarist originally wanted children but she couldn’t have them so she took the (apparently) radical move to be happy anyway. Pretty inspirational, I think.
It’s going to take diligence to stay in this headspace. I expect relapses on occasion. But maybe, just maybe, not all infertility success stories end with a baby. Meanwhile, I start the clomid again tonight. Whatever happens, I’m going to work my ass off to be ok with it.
I really understand what I think you’re getting at, here. Before I had my first child, 6 doctors told me I’d never have any. I bounced back and forth between feeling devastated by it and focusing on all the things I was able to do without children. After having my first child and trying unsuccessfully for almost 2 years before conceiving my second, I again resigned myself to the possibility that maybe I wasn’t meant to have more. And you know, having struggled with infertility, I can say that I really appreciate the kids I have now - but I can also look back and say that life would’ve been okay if I hadn’t been able to have them, too. I don’t know how to say that without sounding like an awful, ungrateful mom. To have kids or not still represents a choice to be made, only sometimes nature/God/fate decides your choice for you. If you can see what you got out of the trade-offs, it’s easier to cope, I think. It’s rare that life-changing circumstances like this only bring a bad side, KWIM?
In my experience the number of kids I’ve had has indeed drastically decreased the amount of time left over for me and the pursuit of my own ambitions. I saw in one of your posts or comments the mention of wanton sex, and I thought - wow, what was that like again? It’s been so long. It’s kind of ironic - you would probably love to trade places with me, but by this point I really envy the fact that you have had a few years in which you weren’t gestating or nursing. And I feel guilty for even saying that after having struggled so long to be pregnant with my first two, and in knowing that others would give anything to trade places. I guess what I’m trying to say is that your newfound peace sounds like a great place to be. If you do get pregnant, I’ll rejoice along with you, but being at peace with what might be out of your hands anyway can only be of benefit, right?
I had a playgroup last Wednesday where a couple of moms were bemoaning their lives with kids which is *not* the same thing as bemoaning the kids and that’s when I first got an inkling of this. My friend (who has an only child by choice) leaned over to me and said, “And you still want to have more?” I do still want to have more but yeah, I totally got what she was saying. And then J. and I had our talk.
Kids bring untold blessings but they also bring a lot of shit and half the time you can’t complain about it because then you sound ungrateful. J. was basically saying, “I would never wish my kids away but if I had it to do over again…” Well, who knows what she might have done?
Motherhood is ambivalence, you know? No matter how you get there or how it all works out. You gain some things, you lose others no matter what happens in your life. I’ve decided to build this new image for myself which is me as Free-Wheeling Writer Mama to One Son. It looks great on paper so now it’s up to me to make it great in real life.
I have two and it feels more like five. When does school start anyway?
Dawn,
Why don’t I read your blog every day? You should send out daily reminders for the brain dead.