The Last Stop
June 5th, 2006
Anytime I’ve thought I was pregnant in the last four years or so – even since I’ve been happily married and in a happy place to be able to have children – I panic like the world is coming to an end. Because, of course, once The Baby is born, the world will stop, and we will never be able to eat, breathe or sleep again and then the walls will crash in, the furniture will melt and we will all DIE BECAUSE WE CANNOT HANDLE THE CHILDREN.
I got like this before I was married – I tend to gravitate towards the counterculture viewpoint, and instead of seeing what’s shoved down my throat as desireable (i.e., a beautiful wedding, a husband, etc.), I am equally toxic with the counter position. In other words, just as many women irrationally desire a wedding and marriage with all the trimmings without really thinking about what it all means, I irrationally desired a dark life of solitude and singledom, because I wasn’ t like all those other women. I was smarter! Free to be me! I didn’t need no stinking wedding ring! And so, I made myself miserable for the entire bout of my engagement and created a prison for what was supposed to be a momentous occasion. And, of course, after all the bruhaha and my incredibly stupid freak-outs, being married turned out to be perfect and better than I could have expected.
And, I’m kind of doing it with parenthood, and sometimes I feel like I’ve got plenty of enablement in the Mommyblogging movement. Instead of eschewing motherhood because it’s shiny! Happy! Wondrous! FULL OF LOVE!, I’m finding myself terrified of a world of exhaustion, sore nipples and what I occasionally interpret as a love/hate, (leaning more towards “hate”) relationship with one’s toddler. I realize this is part of the package, so before every mother on the Internet starts screaming that I am naive and foolish and also, cruel, to dismiss the trials and tribulations of Everymother, bear with me, for I realize this is entirely my fault. And let me remind everyone that I am on anxiety meds because I tend to panic about the worst of all possible situations, and every realistic reminder terrifies me to the brink of sanity.
It’s just that sometimes it feels like the balloon has been deflated – the pendulum swung too far in the opposite direction. My sister always reminds me of how lonely, terrifying and miserable her first few months with Marco were. She talks of bone-chilling sleep deprivation, isolating, wall-climbing loneliness that rendered her in tears nearly every hour, and how, at times, she almost wished she hadn’t run off and gotten knocked up, even though she tried hard – so very hard – to have him in the first place.
The reality of it all has stolen my dark underbelly. I have nothing to desire or eschew. The reality, unfortunately, seems quite bleak and so it seems, I may be forced to eschew it after all, out of sheer terror, because after so many of the things I’ve read/heard/seen, who the HELL would rightfully sign themselves up for this shit? WHO? I’m not being sarcastic.
Let me put it more postively, with some actions that might help, shall we? I wish sometimes that I could hear and read more about whatever moments there are of sheer joy in having children. How it’s not all bad. How marriages can survive without perpetual battles over childcare, screaming babies, the financial strain and General Torture that seems to accompany children. How, even though sometimes there are moments of such unadulterated misery that it is highly possible you just might impale yourself on a passing stingray, the vast majority – or, hell, I’ll take anything higher than 30% – is beautiful, and holds such moments of wonder that you think you might explode with love. How a marriage can survive when two people are committed, even though they might be, ahem, volatile personalities.
Somebody tell me. Somebody tell me what it’s like after the babies. After they stop being more interactive pets and become fully-formed human beings with opinions – when they become financial drains, and whiners, and Little League members and dancers who beg for costumes and wives or husbands who overindulge against the other spouses wishes step in, and then spend their money on haircare, handbags and golf lessons instead of the college fund and OHGODTHEWORLDISENDINGSOMEBODYSAVEME.
Because honestly, I don’t get it yet. I *crave* babies. I crave babies in little socks with little feet and laughs that bounce off the walls and fill the room like bubbles. But kids? Marriage misery? I can’t see it.
*Dave Matthews
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
12 Comments Add your own
1. Beth | June 5th, 2006 at 10:34 pm
I don’t have a spouse to deal with, but I’ve been the primary parent to my son since he was born, and he’s almost 5.5 now. There are really tough moments in which I find myself doing something my parents did, and which I swore I’d never do, and moments immediately following in which I do something that my parents never did, and which I swore I’d always do (like apologize to the kid when I screw up from time to time). There are moments every single day when I think my heart will burst with love…and I feel inadequate because I have no words to describe it. I always knew I liked — and loved — children, and I even had a boyfriend whose son I loved to distraction, and although I thought that had prepared me for loving my own child, it didn’t even come close. Nothing does. From the first night home from the hospital, during which I kept putting on my glasses and peering at my son to make sure he was breathing in his cradle next to my bed — and finally just putting him in bed with me so I could feel his heartbeat — to today, when the kiddo wanted to wear one of my T-shirts because he was cold, and I thought I would die of love as I watched him practically swim in the purple fabric, from the first day of his life, in fact, when I said, “Hi, baby!” as the doctor held him up for me to see before he whisked him away to be weighed and attended…I’ve been consumed with love. It kills me. I feel like I’m being set up for heartbreak, and I suppose I am, in a way, since he will grow up and leave and I will miss him — either that, or I just can’t believe such love comes without a high emotional price. But I have no regrets about his unexpected conception. He has taught me that I’m capable of so much more than I ever gave myself credit for, and I’m grateful for that. I don’t know that anyone is truly “ready” to have a child, even though they may have babysat and changed diapers and loved and taught children. My ex has, in the past, disdainfully told me that I entered motherhood “kicking and screaming,” as if this somehow takes away from my mothering, or my love for my son. Really, I think it was meant to happen that way. If I’d overthought it all, I’d still be childless, and I might regret that. I wasn’t ready to be pregnant, I wasn’t ready to give birth (I was induced), nothing happened according to my birth plan, and I wasn’t ready to be single throughout…nonetheless, on some level I was ready, and I wouldn’t trade a moment of it.
2. Yez | June 5th, 2006 at 11:24 pm
“I wish sometimes that I could hear and read more about whatever moments there are of sheer joy in having children. ”
Okay, I’ll offer this (it qualifies, with a tangy sweetness). Alex was 5, and we were in a restaurant. She started singing ‘Day-O’ :-J so I told her not to sing at the table. A couple of minutes later, she tried spoken lyrics: “Well what we sing at school is…”
“Alex!! Nice try! But couching it in quotes won’t work either. That stuff don’t flush!” [Argument over what quoting means.] I insisted, “You were speaking the lyrics, and we don’t do that either at the dinner table.” “I was saying it.” We were both losing steam, but I nixed “saying” lyrics at the table.
[Brief pause, then:]
“Verses are verses
Couching is couching
Flushing is flushing
I will say nothing.”
3. winterwheat | June 6th, 2006 at 5:09 am
This should make you happy:
http://us.st11.yimg.com/us.st.yimg.com/I/yhst-99178171126149_1901_2319840
For all of my blog kvetching, I have to tell you: I have a photograph of me holding Fi that I’m looking at right now. It’s the first picture of myself that I’ve seen in a long time in which I’m wearing a pure, genuine smile.
She smiles all the time now and even laughs when I tickle her chin on the changing table. She gets these looks of ecstatic joy when she finds something interesting to look at: tree leaves are a favorite. Which makes me look at them too and think, Yeah, they really are cool, aren’t they?
The sleep deprivation sucks. I’m a light sleeper so when I get a chance to sleep it’s not really SLEEP. And the breastfeeding is a huge challenge. But this has to do with who I am, not with her demands. I don’t handle sleep deprivation well. I don’t let myself off the hook when things don’t go as expected. I see these things as failures rather than the unpredictable course of life. That’s my biggest burden — not the baby herself. I had these visions of myself taking to motherhood like a duck to water, but they involved things that are SO not me. I’m not an earth mother type, even though I’m sympathetic to earth mother philosophy. I’m a terribly light sleeper. I need my alone time. So why did I think I’d be out there wearing my baby 24-7, whipping out a boob in public, and sleeping deeply and blissfully whenever the baby sleeps? Why did I think my own character would take a 180 after her birth?
I went into this whole thing with blinders on–not blinders about the trials of having and taking care of a baby, but blinders about who I really am. I envisioned myself easing into childcare without any of the neuroticism I always approach every new transition with. Well, guess what — I’m neurotic. Surprise, surprise.
My advice is to be brutally honest with yourself about how you’re likely to react, and then set up your circumstances for maximum support. And realize that people kvetch about parenthood because they need to blow off steam and because they can’t believe how unprepared they were. I try to think of these first few years as going to college. Big adjustment, new challenges, sleep deprivation, weight issues, new roommate(s), self-doubt, heavy pack to lug around, nostalgia for home (as you knew it), interspersed by moments of intense fun. But if someone had told you that you’d have a rough freshman year, would you decide NOT to go to college based on that alone? Of course not. The thing that makes college more bearable than new parenthood is that you’re surrounded by support. Parenthood, on the other hand, is very isolating if you don’t reach out almost continually for support. That’s one of my flaws; I think I can do everything by myself.
So anyway, be realistic about who you are and how you’re likely to react to the changes, and think about your support system and how you can involve them. You’ll be SO much more prepared than I was. And remember that you already have the best coping mechanism there is, and you have it in spades: a great sense of humor.
xoxo
k
4. Christine | June 6th, 2006 at 8:17 am
I have no useful advice.
But I know the feeling. And I think I’m doing the same thing with the mommy blogs. But in all fairness, it’s good that you know yourself and that the babies and kids take a lot of work.
The other day my S.O. and I arrived home from work and we were trying to figure out what we could concoct from our empty fridge (the fridge laughed and handed us the takeout menu), and we were exhausted, and I looked over our current mess of a house, and I commented, but how do people with kids do it?
Just. wow.
5. Kate | June 6th, 2006 at 9:22 am
All I have to base this on is my own experience, and I only have one kid, and maybe I just got lucky because he’s awesome! (I mean, he really is awesome. People I know who are “childfree by choice” and don’t even like kids tell me they love him. Sorry for the brag, but sometimes you just gotta!)
Anyway, maybe I just got lucky, but I love being a mom. I don’t write about it much, but I love it. I love the poop out of that kid, and if anything, I love him even more now than I did when he was a baby.
Don’t get me wrong, you fall in love with your baby. Well, most people do, and I bet you will too. You know how much you love Adam? You know how much you loved him when you first met and everything was new? You know how much you love your puppy? Well, if you like that, you’ll love the whole newborn thing. It’s an amazing fabulous love that’s worth any price. Even sleep depravation, which truly does suck.
The best thing is, though, they grow up! I love being the mom of an 8 year old even more than I loved being the mom of a baby. An 8 year old can talk to you, tell you stuff you didn’t already know and might never have thought of. An 8 year old can make you laugh. An 8 year old can hit a baseball effortlessly into the neighbor’s yard, over and over again, make you wonder: How did he learn to *do* that? I never taught him! An 8 year old can make clever, witty, smart- aleck remarks that suprise you and catch you off guard (which personally, I love.) An 8 year old has friends, and school and his own stories to tell, and a *life* of his own, so I can have a life of my own too! And an 8 year old still loves you with tremendous fierce love because, you are MOM! No matter what!
And I love that kid’s dirty drawers. I do, I love him to bits. 
He’s one of my favorite people I’ve ever met, ever. Of all time! I love hanging out with him, he’s fun.
After Danny hit about 4, things got *so* much easier. I’m not gonna kid you, those first 4 years are hard, like your sister said. But they are also wonderful. And full of LOVE (remember the love? It’s super-quality-premium love. Seriously!) And once they can go potty on their own and talk to you and stuff? IT GETS BETTER AND BETTER.
So don’t be scared, take the plunge!
6. Whinger | June 6th, 2006 at 10:12 am
I wish I could help, but I can’t see it either.
But I know what it is to crave them. And I know that if I DID have a kid, I wouldn’t regret it. It’s just that, for me, it’s impossible to become pregnant by surprise.
7. amandampc | June 6th, 2006 at 10:24 am
Well, babies ARE awfully adorable.
Personally, I think ambivalence about life’s REALLY major decisions/choices is kind of normal – since no choice is ever 100% “perfect.”
And really, if you think about it, “who the HELL would rightfully sign themselves up for this shit” is a question many writers ask themselves, at times every five minutes (points finger bluntly at own head.) Writing is what I chose to do *instead* of having kids because, well, no way could I survive both processes. You may well be made of stronger stuff, however, good Jonna! You’ve definitely got the writing end covered.
8. Jen W. | June 6th, 2006 at 11:08 am
I’m so relieved to read something like this…Even among friends my age and in my situation (with a steady boyfriend leaning towards marraige), I’m one of few who truly debates whether or not I should have a child- EVER. I know in my present situation with work that there is no way I could handle it. I definitely know I couldn’t afford it. Reading the blogs scares me even more, but then reassures me at the same time because they seem to be women like me. They are smart and funny and realistic. They complain. But they still scare the shit out of me and so does the idea of having one of my own anytime soon.
9. Parisjasmal | June 7th, 2006 at 3:30 pm
I got a haircut yesterday and the lady who cuts my hair has 2 daughters. One daughter is 21 the other is 18. She said they tell her to F off daily. One of them is with a boy in a punk band and they are homeless gypsies. The other one is going to marry a boy who is 17 and works at Jewel.
I have a lovely friend whom has a son who is terribly violent. He has given teachers black eyes, has given my friend black eyes. He has been in and out of juvenile mental institutions for the past few years. My friend who loves her son dearly and misses him when he is away–is honestly a much calmer and happier person when he is in the institutions. Did I mention he is 8?
No Thanks. I could not handle it. I KNOW I could not handle it. I would be miserable and resentful and lonely and mad at the world.
It scares me like nothing else.
I get so pissed at EVERYONE who thinks something is wrong with me because I do not want kids. I want them in theory, but not in reality. And I am starting to NOT FEEL GUILTY about being totally honest with my feelings. I am an only child and I cannot imagine being tethered to another living being 24 hours a day for the next 18 years.
Calgon take me away.
10. Sundry | June 7th, 2006 at 7:08 pm
It’s been life-changing for me in every way possible. It’s not all sunshine and adorableness. But it’s like…imagine climbing Everest, the shit you would go through, the blisters and altitude sickness and pain. And then the unbelievable experience of being at the summit, the sheer overwhelming beauty and gorgeousness and pride and shattering joy. Now imagine climbing Everest over and over, every day. Hand in hand with your partner.
It sucks sometimes. It’s amazingly blissful sometimes. It’s hard on my marriage. It brings us closer.
It’s the best goddamn thing that has ever happened to me, and I used to hate when people said that, but here I am: saying that.
11. Leigh Costain | June 8th, 2006 at 4:31 pm
I never wanted kids. I tried to have my tubes tied at 28. At 30 I started to be very slightly open to the possibility, at 31 I got married and immediately pregnant (by accident). My son is 12 now. I got divorced when he was less than a year old.
It’s funny to hear you (and Whinger) talk about the mommy blogs. I’ve read many of them too. My experience is so different from what I hear from some mothers. I feel almost ashamed to speak up because I risk sounding like a sappy Hallmark card.
But I fell immediately and hopelessly in love with my son. Not when he was in the womb (when it was still unreal and my biggest worry was the long term effect of pregnancy on my body). But the moment I held him for the first time. It was overwhelming.
And I never felt strung out by the sleeplessness or “burdened” by being a mother at all. I’ve at times felt burdened by all of the other demands life makes on me because, really, I just want to hang out with my kid.
Ok, his dad is super involved and I’ve always had built in “breaks”. I miss him terribly at these times. But I suppose I could feel differently if I’d had him 24/7. And I suppose I might feel differently if I had more than one.
I have also liked every age better than the last (though I can see already that age 13 might cause a dip in that trend…) We have such a good time together and he is developing a wonderful dry sense of humor. He has brought me joy on a daily basis since he came into the world.
But my son is not only someone I love to spend time with, he’s someone I admire. He is such a good, caring person. He came out like that, I didn’t make him like that. Every day I wish I could be more like him and I think the world is a better place because he is here.
Seriously, it never crosses my mind to resent the time or energy that it takes to parent him. Not being a woman who grew up thinking she’d have kids and also being of an extremely independent nature, this all came as shock to me.
But it’s sort of like being in a relationship. When you find the one you want to spend time with, do you miss the single life you used to have? It doesn’t feel like sacrifice to give up one lifestyle when you’ve found another that is deeply fulfilling.
12. Cold Sore Treatment&hellip | April 8th, 2007 at 5:00 am
cold sore picture
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