chance
30-08-2005, 22:07
We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions
>that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a
> > survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
>"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I
>know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous
>vacations." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to
>decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in
>childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing
>will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so
>raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she
>will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been
>MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That
>when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything
>could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully
>manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is,
>becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting
>her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle
>or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
> > I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has
>invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.
>She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an
>important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She
>will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to
>make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that every
>day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's
>desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become
>a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and
>screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed
>against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that men's
>room. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess
>herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to
>assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she
>will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important,
>will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give
>herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more
>years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish
>theirs. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will
>become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will
>change, and not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much
>more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never
>hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in
>love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my
>daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who
>have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I want to describe to
>my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
>I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is
> touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her
>to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts. My daughter's
>quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll
>never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed
>my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and
>for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most
>wonderful of callings. Please share this with a Mom that you know or
>all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your
>arms the one who is in your heart.
>that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a
> > survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
>"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral. "I
>know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous
>vacations." But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to
>decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in
>childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing
>will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so
>raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she
>will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that had been
>MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That
>when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything
>could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her carefully
>manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is,
>becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting
>her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle
>or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.
> > I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has
>invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood.
>She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an
>important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She
>will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to
>make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know that every
>day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's
>desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become
>a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and
>screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed
>against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that men's
>room. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess
>herself constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to
>assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she
>will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important,
>will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give
>herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more
>years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish
>theirs. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will
>become badges of honor. My daughter's relationship with her husband will
>change, and not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much
>more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never
>hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in
>love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic. I wish my
>daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who
>have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving. I want to describe to
>my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.
>I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is
> touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her
>to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts. My daughter's
>quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes. "You'll
>never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the table, squeezed
>my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and
>for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most
>wonderful of callings. Please share this with a Mom that you know or
>all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms. May you always have in your
>arms the one who is in your heart.