End of something
Ever since Brendan was born in 2001, my wife and I have occasionally discussed having another child. Sometimes we agreed that we did want another child; other times, we felt like the burden of raising yet another child would be too much. The subject would lie dormant for long periods, and then suddenly we would find ourselves talking about it again, perhaps because a friend became pregnant or had a baby, or because Lynn thought she herself might be pregnant.
This past weekend, I feel like we finally reached a definite conclusion on the subject. We have decided not to have another child.
The truth is that Lynn and I are at an age where we have to either do it now, or not do it at all. Lynn is three years older than me, and physically she does not feel up to having another child in her late thirties. Additionally, of course, the chance of complications grows as a woman ages toward forty. That said, we know someone who had a surprise pregnancy in her mid-forties–and she considered it a great blessing–but frankly it is hard for me to imagine 45 year-old versions of myself or my wife getting up at night with a crying infant.
I have a hard enough time imagining my 35 year-old self getting up with a crying infant.
So not only is my wife afraid of the physical havoc that pregnancy wreaks on a woman’s body, but there is the practical consideration of the constraints placed on parents by a small child. Our neighbor recently had her first child; she is only 22, and since bringing the baby home a couple weeks ago, she has hardly left her house and is not sleeping. My wife goes over to see her occasionally, and Lynn reports that she has never even seen the poor girl out of her pajamas. Her day is a perpetual round of feeding, birping, changing diapers, trying to get the baby to sleep, and trying to find time for naps for herself.
Is that really what my wife and I want to go through again?
It’s easy to forget what it is like. I have so much freedom now that Brendan is six. I can play a video game if I want. Lynn and I can hire a babysitter and go out every weekend, if we want. Travel is easier. We are beginning to plan for real vacations again, vacations involving plane travel and cultural experiences, rather than amusement park rides and fools in silly mouse costumes.
If we have another child, for at least another four or five years we are back in the house-bound, child-rearing mode again.
Perhaps I view children as too much of a drag on their parents’ time and energy. I certainly cannot imagine having more than two children, and honestly I don’t know how people like my sister-in-law, with three kids, survives with her peace of mind intact. She always seems perpetually assured about her parenting and her life. Whereas I would feel eternally frazzled by having three children to care for and give of myself to, she never seems to feel that they are a burden.
Perhaps, too, I am just selfish. I can admit that, though it makes me feel guilty. I should want lots of children, shouldn’t I? In our culture, having children is looked upon as the ultimate goal in life. Non-parents, or people with only one child, are looked upon as being rather miserly, unwilling to spend of themselves in rearing children for the good of the country. Christians even promote child-rearing as a duty, for God’s sake (literally, for God’s sake).
Even hippies and liberals have this glowing, emotional attachment to the idea of pregnancy and child-rearing. Family is the ultimate mega-church to which we all aspire to belong, and family is not complete with only Mom, Dad, and a single child. Having only one child is almost as much of an “alternative lifestyle” as being a single parent, or a gay couple with a kid.
But, as Lynn and I have discussed, we don’t feel that we are good enough parents to raise another child. We often talk about whether we have done wrong by Brendan in some ways, spoiled him too much perhaps. We ask ourselves, “Why do we want another child?”
Is it because we love children? Or is it because we have this sense that we have not fulfilled our “duty” to produce children? Honestly, I think it is the latter. I don’t particularly love children, at least not infants. I really do not like infants. I think infants are, by and large, ugly, squalling little parasites that suck all the life out of their parents. If a fetus could gestate until age four, I would be happy to have another child. I’d just rather skip the whole infant/toddler phase.
I think that when Lynn and I have seriously discussed having another child, when we have come down on the side of having one, it is for reasons wholly unrelated to the desire to have another child to love. We say, “Well, it would be good for Brendan to have a brother or sister.” Why we think so goes back to societal norms: there is a bit of received wisdom in the culture that tells us that only children are spoiled, selfish children.
Or I say, “I was an only child, and I always wanted a sibling.” Which is true, as far as that goes. I did grow up longing for a sibling, because I was so lonely. I should not assume that Brendan also wants a sibling, however, just because I did.
Or we agree that having one more child might fulfill some mystical need for a “well-rounded” family, especially if the second child is a girl. We could then consider our “duty” to society finished. The pressure to continue having children would be gone, or at least greatly diminished.
Nowhere in our calculations does love figure into the matter.
And when it comes right down to it, I just don’t feel like I am a good parent. Why do I want to have another child to screw up?
On the other hand, as people did in past eras when child mortality was high, I could look upon having another child as an insurance policy in case something goes wrong with Brendan. I don’t merely mean that he might die, but that he could turn out so screwed up that he is as good as dead. Unlikely, but you never can tell. No one thinks that their six-year old child will be a bad seed.
If you only have one child and, for example, they are killed in a school shooting, such as happened last week at Virginia Tech, then it’s all over. The family is, essentially, finished with that one death. Or if the killer himself had been an only child, instead of having a successful and well-adjusted sister, imagine the added grief of his parents?
Who knows what is right, or whether we will one day regret this decision. Life is always full of regret anyway. We do what we think is right at the moment, only to usually find out that we were a fool in the bargain. The fact remains in this case, if we had another child, it would be for the wrong reasons; and I am not an especially great parent anyway. I might as well concentrate on not messing up too badly with the one child I have.
On Friday, I am going to see my family physician to discuss my anti-depressant and any side-effects I may have experienced. I am also going to ask her about a vasectomy. Previously, even when we decided that for the meantime we were not having a child, I liked to leave the option open. This time, I am closing that door for good. It’s time to make a decision and stick with it. We aren’t getting any younger.
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Wow. It looks like you two did your best to look logically at the situation, without rose-colored glasses, or blinders as the case my be, and tried to do what was best for you. That’s often hard to do. Or hard for me, anyway.
Comment by Heather — Wednesday, 25 April 2007 @ 9:45 am
Pregnancy and child birth are revered institutions, not just in this country but across the world. It’s difficult to take the rose-colored glasses off and really ask hard questions. Why do we want another child? Are we good enough parents to raise two children?
Most people don’t bother asking any questions at all. Having children is just what adults do, and people don’t think much about the why or the whether. I know my sister-in-law seems blithely unconcerned about such issues, but I also think she is a much better parent generally than I am. I don’t have the patience or the self-sacrificing, giving nature that children require.
Comment by greypilgrim — Wednesday, 25 April 2007 @ 9:52 am
Pregnancy and child birth may indeed be revered institutions, but I think that tends to be the case in the abstract more than reality. Is our culture really that friendly to children (particularly very young children) as they often are in that heard as well as seen sense? Not really. Most places aren’t very accommodating to even the most basic needs of parents with young children (though thank God for the emergence of decently maintained “Family bathrooms” at the better rest stops, airports, zoos, etc.).
Anyway, it must be a relief to have made a decision and to have settled in both your minds what direction you will take. We’re pretty sure we’ll be stopping with two (we’re not getting any younger either), though for us, I’m glad we’ll have two kids. I must confess some anxiety about the logistics of toting around an infant and a 3-year-old, but thankfully Elliot will be 3 which seems a more pliable and independent age than 2. Can’t imagine how parents who have two kids under the age of 2 survive…
Comment by Dawn — Thursday, 26 April 2007 @ 7:16 am
I think if we had another child, I would worry more about my attention and energy being so divided that I’d be a physical and emotional wreck from the stress. I do find infants very stressful to be around. I don’t mind someone else’s infant. I’ll hold them, coo over them, lie about how cute they are…but I am always glad to give the little bugger back.
You can’t give your own infant back. He or she is there, 24/7, like a tumor, demanding constant attention and nurturing.
I have reached the conclusion I probably should just thank the heavens Brendan is out of that stage and into the little boy phase. And why I would ever want to go back and relive that experience of total enslavement to the demands of an infant, is beyond me.
That’s not to say that infants are all work and no fun. I just tend to naturally focus on the negative, I suppose. Or what I perceive as the negative.
I also have heard that a second child is much easier than the first, in part because the parent knows what to expect and how to deal with it all; so perhaps I should not base my judgments on our experience with Brendan. But I guess I will never know if it is true or not that a second child is easier.
On the subject of “family friendly” environments, this remains true even when a child is older. Few men’s rooms have urinals that a small boy can reach. As for sinks, forget it. I have rarely found a restroom with sinks low enough to accomodate children. And people themselves are certainly not necessarily accomodating of children, particulary if they are noisy or fidgety, as you suggest.
Talk show host Neal Boortz is perhaps the most vocal anti-child advocate on the air waves. “Anti-child” is perhaps too strong, but he is definitely in the “children should be seen and not heard” camp. Look at this example from his blog: Way to go Air-Tran.
Comment by greypilgrim — Thursday, 26 April 2007 @ 7:55 am
Wow. That’s a monumental decision. But it sounds like the reasons you had were good.
I like your description of infants. I personally think they’re scary; they are fragile.
I also think that I would decide to not have any children. I think it’s probably mostly out of selfishness, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.
I think that Brendan, as an only child, can get more of the attention and care he needs. I always felt resentful of my brother because I had it good by myself. Very good. I think my parents had my brother to round off the expectations of society. My dad didn’t want two kids; I don’t think he wanted the first one.
Comment by Mel B. — Thursday, 26 April 2007 @ 11:08 am
That is sad to realize that your Dad might not have wanted you. In my case, my parents wanted more children, but due to complications with her pregnancy with me, my Mom was unable to have any more. Consequently, I always felt some mild guilt, as if I were the reason my parents could not have any more children.
There is too much shame and guilt burdening people who do not fit societal stereotypes or norms. Single parents, only children, gays, anyone who does not conform. On the one hand, guilt is an internal issue–guilt is “my” fault–but on the other, it is a reflection of our perceived notions about normalcy. And those notions are very much rooted in the real world. Why do we feel so guilty about not wanting to breed like a bunch of wild rabbits? Or not particularly liking babies?
Comment by greypilgrim — Thursday, 26 April 2007 @ 11:22 am
That Boortz piece is appalling. Maybe the parents did handle it poorly, but they could also have just been having an exceptionally bad day with their three-year-old and likely felt embarrassed and frustrated too. It’s too easy to know what parents of young children should be doing when you’re not them and the kid’s not yours, which isn’t to say there isn’t such a thing as poor parenting, but Boortz (who my uncle likes–big surprise there) is just an ass.
Comment by Dawn — Thursday, 26 April 2007 @ 9:24 pm
Non-parents always have plenty of advice for parents, most of it having to do with keeping a child quiet so that non-parents can be completely undisturbed. Personally, maybe because I’ve been through it recently, I find myself unaffected by noisy children, or children throwing tantrums in stores. I see it and feel sympathy with the parents (usually, unless the parent acts like an ass in some way, or the child seems to be merely showing off), but I don’t get on my high horse and preach to Lynn or whoever happens to be nearby about what that parent ought to do.
Like all of these talk show hosts, Boortz is a blowhard. By and large, these talk show hosts are uneducated and conservative (that is, hardened into entrenched, right-leaning ideological positions), but effective communicators. Their effectiveness often has to do with their willingness to say provocative or controversial things that most people would not express (think of Imus). Unfortunately, ordinary people who listen to these men often assume that provocative equals wise. Thus these college dropouts become the philosopher kings of our age.
Comment by greypilgrim — Friday, 27 April 2007 @ 8:21 am
Well stated!
Comment by Dawn — Friday, 27 April 2007 @ 8:19 pm