Fishes, Bicycles, and the Uterus

I went to High School long after Roe Vs Wade.  Long after women fought for equal rights in the workplace.  Long after Gloria Steinem talked about fishes and bicycles.  By the time my body was able to bear children, I had received a message loud and clear: children are an anchor, a curse, a foolish choice.  Children keep you from rising above minimum wage.  Children end your future.

Unless you have a baby.

I was told I could do anything- pushed on, propelled forward, and encouraged in every way.  The pressure to fly high was so intense that sometimes teachers would insinuate (unknowingly) that my Mother had somehow failed at life because she worked at McDonald's.  "Go to college; you don't want to wind up flipping burgers when you're 40!"

So when I found out I was pregnant (surprise!) at 20 (having been married almost a year), I was TERRIFIED.  There were moments of excitement, but I mostly felt that I was hurtling forward into an adventure I had not chosen.  My stomach was a ticking time bomb of doom.  When we announced our news, I got weepy messages of support as though I'd let the world know I'd been diagnosed with a terminal illness.  I got condolences instead of congratulations.

The first year was a kicker.  LOL  It's been five years (and two babies) since then.  My husband and I are the proud parents of three adorable, frustrating, sometimes slimy, children.  They are wonderful.  And I don't feel done.  When I discuss the fact that I don't feel done, I get a wide variety of reactions- but everyone thinks I'm crazy.  Just the other day I told a good friend that we were saving up for a van "just in case" and she replied "God forbid!"  When did we get so supportive of a woman's right to choose that we stopped supporting a woman's right to choose children?  Because nearly all my friends are Christians (the liberal to conservative pendulum swings wildly, but we all love Jesus here).  And they nearly all agree I'm crazy.

I remember how I thought of children before I had my own.  What would I say to young Jamie (the Jamie who had perky boobs and free time ;) )?  They are worth it.  Every Mother will tell you that, so I won't go into detail, but they truly are.  And the experience is worth it.  Not because of the sweet moments, or the parental victories ("Jack, would you like to come into our room and play with me?" "Yes, please!"), but because of the sacrifices.  No other experience has ever revealed so many weaknesses, or brought to light so many strengths.

"The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new." -Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh

They left that part out when they were telling me I could do anything.  I don't know what my point is here, this may just be a rant that lays dusty in a neglected pocket of the internet, but I just wish I could tell young Jamie this.  That this is the main event of my life.  Will I finish my book?  I certainly hope so.  Will it be the end of the world if I don't?  No.  Because this, this mothering thing, is the story of my life.  There may be a time when I do feel done.  When I can take up the charge to greatness and make something else, but I'm done declaring that I'm "more than 'just' a Mother".  I'm done trying to parent while stuffing down feelings of guilt that I'm not doing something "more" with my life.  I'm not going to pay dues to the goddesses of feminism in return for a miserable existence.  My life is little.  It's messy.  And the budget is kinda squeaky.  But I'd be an absolute fool to trade this for a dream in which it's all about me.  Because the more I sacrifice for the life we're living now, the happier I am.  And maybe that's what the naysayers fear, really.  Not the snot or poop or sleep deprivation.  The sacrifice.

He regrets nothing.

I did not choose this adventure, but God did.  And he knew what I needed.  The more I listen to him, and the more I trust in him, the happier I am.  Right now my prayers and my questions are being answered with 'you're not done'.  So I'm not done.  (I tried to be 'done'.  We scheduled a vasectomy and everything.  It felt awful and it was incredibly depressing for both of us.)

None of this comes with judgment towards women who don't feel led to reproduce.  This is just me, thinking things through.  I know it's not for everyone, but I also know it is for me.  And it's just that simple.  You know what my biggest fear is?  It's not having four to watch, it's not the tight budget, or the late nights or the fear of another fussy baby (though that does sit in second place!).  I'm afraid that we won't have any friends.  I'm scared that in spite of the Bible touting the blessings of children, and in spite of all the verses about going where he leads, my Christian friends will not see past our culture.  If they can't, if they think I've gone off the deep end, I'll miss them.  It'll hurt.  But it certainly won't be worse than ignoring what I really feel God is telling me.  So, folks, I'm excited.  I'm excited to be blessed with fertility (we're scary fertile, yo).  I'm also scared.  But I'm tired of feeling like I can't share this big thing with brothers and sisters in the Church without getting judgment like crazy.

So, goodbye feminism.  Hello, minivan.  It'll be fun!  :)

Roll for initiative,
J. Wahl