I got to my office one morning and this cartoon was taped to my door:
I knew right away who had put it there. It was Co-worker A, a man who shares many of my parenting frustrations. We often trade eye rolls about the demands of parenting and confess fairly frequently our desire for the kids to grow up and get out of the house already. This guy’s wife is the primary breadwinner and he has probably done more kid-duty than she has, so we have that in common. Co-worker B is my age (37), already a tenured professor, and has three kids ages 2, 5, and 7. I’m sure she has her moments (what parent doesn’t?), but she mostly seems to enjoy-heck, even relish-time spent with her little ones.
The three of us were sitting in the conference room after everyone had rendered a pretty droopy rendition of “Happy Birthday” to the celebrants of the month. The conversation turned-as it often does when I’m around-to parenting. I was making fun of a man I know who supposedly can’t get his own kids to bed without his wife’s help. (I know, I know-judge not . . .) And so I said to my friends: “The way I see it, if it took both of us to get the kids on the planet (which it did, trust me), then it takes both of us to raise them.” Then Co-worker A said he occasionally reminds his wife that since she was the one who wanted kids, she should have more of the responsibility for raising them. (And really, he’s mostly full of crap because he’s a great dad.) Co-worker B responded that she could’ve gone either way-she could’ve been happy with or without kids.
And I was left speechless (a truly rare occurrence). Confused, I asked for clarification: “What do you mean, you could’ve gone either way?” And they both confirmed that they had considered not having kids.
This conversation occurred about six weeks ago, but I cannot get it out of my head. I can honestly say that it never occurred to me that I might not have children some day. I don’t remember ever discussing it with my husband. (In the interest of full disclosure, I’ll just say here that I was 19 when I got married. I know, it’s crazy. Now let’s move on.) It would’ve been like discussing whether we would breathe or whether we would sleep. That conversation would’ve been, as I learned in a Mandarin Chinese class I took as an undergraduate: “fei hua,” which means “wasted words.” My whole life plan was set: grow up, go to college, get married, have kids (preferably in that order), pursue and enjoy a meaningful career. At no point did I consider the possibility that “have kids” was something I could actually choose to do-or conversely, choose not to do.
I never had anyone breathing down my neck, telling me to hurry up and have kids. I wasn’t getting that from my husband or my parents. Still, parenthood is a huge part of Mormon culture and doctrine. It’s the whole purpose of life, right? But it’s bigger than that; getting married and having kids is a huge part of American culture, too. We’ve got Disney movies and life coaches and Family Fun magazine all telling us that having children is the thing to do.
Right after my second daughter was born, our oldest daughter complained: “I don’t want a baby sister. Can’t you put her back?” A fair enough question from a three-year-old whose position as only child had just been irrevocably eliminated. 
I can’t take back my decision to become a mother. And I wouldn’t even if I could (on most days, that is). My kids are great, they really are. But this idea that I could’ve chosen a different path keeps tagging along behind me like a shadow.
And even more important than the parenthood question (which, for three obvious reasons-all of whom share my DNA-is purely academic), the conversation during the office birthday celebration makes me wonder what other aspects of my life just happened because I jumped into them without even thinking, without questioning. What other conversations should I have had before acting, but didn’t, because to have them would’ve been “fei hua”?
[Pat Byrnes Cartoon printed in the 6/28/2010 edition of The New Yorker.]
[Featured image courtesy of http://www.flickr.com/photos/the-g-uk/3496896939/sizes/o/in/photostream/]
Love it! The self-deprecating self-awareness is always refreshing and darn funny, and the question at the end is genuinely thought provoking.
Still thinking…
I was of the opinion that I would never marry or have children but having chosen and done both, I could definitively say that although I love my children, I could have lived without. Troy and I almost didn’t get married because he wanted children and I did not. Finally, we “compromised” and I told him that I would have one for him. Knowing that an only child can lead a lonely life (from experience) I knew that I would have to have another so that I could give the first child a rich life and the companion/friend that I never had growing up as numero uno. There are good and fullfilling moments to living the American dream, don’t get me wrong, but I am also burdened with the majority of the upbringing while Troy is out making the money. If I had had the opportunity to have gone to college and had a career of my own, perhaps he would be the one staying home and I wouldn’t feel such regret. I ultimately did choose to have children (they were both planned down to a ‘T’) but I also dream of all the could have’s too if they weren’t a part of my life. Parenthood is the ultimate gift– to your children… I think because for a long while, you give up and lose so much of yourself so that they can have their shining moment. I know it won’t be always give and take, but for now with a 3 1/2 year old and a 17 month old, I’m ready for the next phase when I can find who I am again. Would I still be the same person if I didn’t have children now? How much have they formulated the person I am now and the person I have yet to become? Very interesting thought to ponder.
@Lexi–would I be the same person if I didn’t have children? Wowza, what a question. My choices for nearly 15 years have been dictated/shaped/influenced by my kids, so it’s impossible for me to even imagine what I might be like without them.
There are certainly times when parenthood feels like a gift–to me. You’re right that most often, though, it feels like a gift to them. Lots of self-sacrificing. The other day, Stuart came over and gave me a little hug and thanked me for running them around that night. And another night, after taking everyone to Claire’s to buy new earrings for Marin (who got her ears pierced for the SECOND time and was ready to take the original ones out and try a new pair) and blowing $40 (hello), Marin said–as we were leaving–“Mom, to show you how much we love you and how grateful we are that you brought us here to get new earrings, we will go right home and go to bed.” ;)
But yeah, mostly it’s a thankless job.
I do love my kiddos, but I would have probably chosen to have them much later than I did if I hadn’t been born Mormon and been on autopilot. I am grateful I have them, and I accept my past, but life would have looked a lot different if I had actually considered a career like many women of my generation. I had finished college at BYU and I was married, so I didn’t see the point in continuing my education at that point since I would be having children soon. Now I’m waiting for my youngest to get a little older and then I am off to school again :) I have a renewed sense of adventure now that I fully own having my own career at some future date. Better late than never.
It’s hard to look at my children now and imagine life without them. I just know that they were meant to be part of my existence, but I never really made the decision either. Even though our first was highly unexpected and temporarily halted my career plans, I’m fairly certain that I always knew I would have children (of course, my last was unplanned as well, so it’s easy to feel that I had no control in the matter) I was never an enthusiastic babysitter so it was surprising to be as excited as I was when I finally wrapped my head around reality. I did wonder in the years since starting a family if my desires to keep going were purely expectational, but I look around me now and feel “right”. And perhaps the best confirmation of my choices that came from imposition is that the career that I plan to change to celebrates the continuation of what I at one point in time resented, and I feel like that was a revelation of a path that is truly perfect for me with all that I know now and how I have grown. And I would not be here and at peace with my potential had I not had children. So expectation or inspiration, it’s all the same to me at this point.
As far as wasted words, this idea is interesting. I’m still processing what else in my life may fall under this.
Corktree, expectation/inspiration: “Fei Hua!” ;) Love it.
Good question. I’m pretty sure both marriage and kids, as rewarding as they have turned out to be, were decisions I made on autopilot and I could be happy without them. A different kind of happy, but still happy. I think part of this is being Mormon and part of it is being young. Sometimes, I feel like I made a lot of big decisions before I had seen enough of the world to consider that things might work another away. I also got married young — 20 — but, we did wait five years to have kids.
It is interesting to consider this question in my 30s, with so many of these big choices made. I have less freedom, yet, I feel more open to other ways of doing things. I know this — I don’t want to live my life on autopilot.
I agree with other commenters here that Fei Hua is a intriguing concept. I was well into my thirties before it slowly occurred to me that so many choices in my life had been for reasons other than what the consequences of those choices might recommend. Eg. I was baptized, not to covenant with God or to join the church (though these were certainly apparent) but to do what my parents and other adults had planned for me and expected of me. I wanted to please these people who had given so much to me, fulfill their expectations of me as a matter of course. The same is true of the mission. Getting married was partly so, but I married relatively late for a Mormon — twenty-six — and I fell in love with someone who I knew would take me down a different path than perhaps my parents had meant for me.
Having children seems a totally different dynamic in my mind. Unlike these other so-called decisions which are largely cultural in nature, having children is charged with ancient and deeply visceral dynamics — longings really. I was compelled unthinkingly to realize a biological imperative. And from where I sit today, this dear family is everything to me. They are me. Precious and dear.
Yes, baptism. Like most members I got baptized without really thinking about it. There was the interview with the bishop, but it wasn’t a conversation. My sincerest desire for my oldest is to make it a real decision for her and not a case of wasted teaching opportunity.
You know, I used to think that part of my innate desire to be a mother was purely biological, but I know so many women that claim that they never want children. Not career driven women or even single. One of them is a preschool teacher! So I don’t know what to think anymore. I can’t imagine staring down the rest of my (hopefully) long life without descendants, but apparently this is not as universal a need as I once thought. I still can’t wrap my head around that.
Yes, I don’t think it’s a universal imperative and it’s certainly a very complex dynamic. Just for me, my heart aches at the thought of life without these children who are so quickly becoming adults. The trials of parenthood are another matter. That I could often do without. :D
Interesting comments, Matt & Corktree.
Re: having kids being a biological imperative. That’s exactly the wording I was going for. I’m certainly willing to concede that for many, it may feel like a biological imperative, but I assumed that it was imperative for EVERYONE. Actually, that’s not even true. I didn’t even think about it beyond thinking that the only reason someone might not have children is if a) they didn’t get married or b) they couldn’t conceive. So it’s more the failure to question that I’m getting at. What big decisions do we make in life without thinking, just because of cultural/religious/social/family expectations?
And is there something inherently wrong about choosing to do something because others expect it of us? That message was obviously implied by my post, but maybe I’m off-base. ?