To Be Or Not To Be… A Parentannoying-kids-on-airplane

*Note: This blog post is not as long as it appears!  There is an optional piece at the end!

Got kids?  Not yet?  Not ever?  I think that includes all of us.  If I’m wrong, let me know.  Let’s tell the truth about our mixed up, messy feelings about parenting, whether we have kids or not.  One thing I know for sure is that you have or had parents or caretakers of some kind and that makes you an expert on the subject.

I’m a mom.  Yes, my world revolves around my kids.  The depth of the love I feel for them is not something I could possibly express in words (the optional piece at the end is a start).  But there’s also a lot more to me than the label “mom” signifies and it bothers me when people don’t see that.  I have big dreams and ambitions for myself as well as for my kids.  I’m also not one of those moms who thinks everyone should have children.  In my circle of friends, there are as many women and men who don’t have kids as there are who do.  I actually love their availability and the grown-up conversations we have, not to mention the pleasure of sharing a glass of wine in a consistently clean, clutter free, quiet home!

So the question I want to raise here is whether or not having children makes us happy.  If it does, by all means let’s all go out and procreate to our hearts’ content… or begin the adoption process or visit the sperm bank… whatever your personal means may be.  But if the research shows something different or more complex, we must face the truth and prepare ourselves for the hard realities of parenting, if we take it on.  Because as Jackie Kennedy famously said, “If you bungle raising your children, I don’t think whatever else you do matters very much.”

A Pew Research Center study shows that in the last thirty years the number of women in their early 40s who don’t have children has gone from 10% to 18%, with 20% of those women saying they’re definitely planning to stay that way.  If you’re a parent, did you ever consider not having children?  What made you decide to have kids?  Would you do it again if you knew then what you know now?  Was there ever a weak moment when you thought you were in over your head?  The 2 a.m. feedings and unsolvable crying jags that left you sobbing right along with the baby and wanting to run away from it all?  And remember when you undid your sweet little one’s diaper only to have liquid poo sprayed all over you and the surrounding area?  Isn’t that a special memory?  It’s extra special when it happens at someone else’s home and you get caught frantically trying to sop hot gooey feces off their pristine comforter.  Don’t even get me started on the teenage years…

If you don’t have kids, do you feel pressure from society to take that leap, ready or not?  Do people routinely and rudely make references to your ticking biological clock, even if you’re single?  If you don’t want to have kids, can you speak those words out loud or do you fear the judgment of others?  Why should you be made to feel guilty for wanting a life free of endless needs to be met and awful smells permeating your home?  Why should you apologize for choosing the freedom to travel and put your hard earned money in the bank rather than being trapped in suburbia forced to feed perpetually hungry mouths and clothe trendy label demanding bodies with every last penny?

Here’s the cold, hard truth: research shows that having children decreases happiness. Daniel Gilbert, a professor of psychology at Harvard University wrote in Time magazine, “Studies reveal that most married couples start out happy and then become progressively less satisfied over the course of their lives, becoming especially disconsolate when their children are in diapers and in adolescence, and returning to their initial levels of happiness only after their children have had the decency to grow up and go away.”  Is this true in your experience or the experiences of couples you know with kids?

Countless studies reveal the same dismal picture.  For example, a study by Jean M. Twenge, W. Keith Campbell, and Craig A. Foster in the Journal of Marriage and Family found that parents report lower marital satisfaction compared with nonparents.  In another article in the Journal of Marriage and Family, Norval D. Glenn and Sara McLanahan warned, “the best evidence now available indicates that the present young adults should not decide to have children on the basis of expectations that parenthood will lead to psychological rewards in the later stages of life.  The prospects for such rewards seem rather dim, at best.”

The findings seem consistent: having kids results in significantly less happiness overall and puts a tremendous strain on a marriage.  Yet, those of us who have kids will tell you that our kids are everything to us and we couldn’t imagine life without them.  Speaking personally, my children bring me more joy, laughter, and meaning than anyone or anything else in my life.  I’m also willing to admit that my children have brought me more pain and suffering than anything else in life as well – either by seeing them in pain or as a direct result of their actions.  Actions I have come to realize I have far less control over than I ever could have known when they were little cells dividing in my womb.

What about the potentially negative impact of bringing children into a marriage or committed relationship?  Based on the studies mentioned above, one might assume that the divorce rate is higher for couples with kids.  The opposite is true.  Studies show that among divorced couples in the United States, 66 percent are childless compared with 40 percent who have kids.  So maybe kids can be the glue that binds us together.  But isn’t being happily married more important than simply staying married?  That’s a trickier number to pin down.  Still, I must admit that nothing makes me feel more in love with my husband than seeing him in daddy mode – tenderly caring for and mindfully guiding our kids.

So here’s my challenge to all parents out there.  If you have kids, think about why you had them.  Think about how they have affected your marriage or relationship with the partner you chose to raise children your children with.  Be honest.  Talk to others about it and ask what their experiences and feelings are.  If you’re raising kids by yourself, do you feel bitter about it?  I know I would.  Too much is left unspoken.  Let’s lift the taboo of admitting to one another how difficult it is to be a parent so we can support each other more.  And after you’ve admitted what an impossible job it is to raise kids, can you then relax and try to enjoy it?  Can you let go of the standard of perfection and see the value of a lazy afternoon of soaking up the sunshine while watching your kids play in the park?  Will you close your ears to the voices telling you that you should be striving to climb the next rung of the corporate ladder rather than playing Monopoly?  Gloating as you place your hotels on Park Place and Boardwalk can be as intoxicating as clubbing was in your 20s, without the brutal hangover the next day.

For my friends out there who don’t have children, but want to, are you being honest with yourself about why?  Can you say with certainty that you want to be a parent for the “right reasons?”  Would you be brave enough to read the research that says having kids makes life harder, makes us less happy, and puts relationship satisfaction at risk before you make your final choice?  If you’re willing to face parenthood fully aware of all it entails and you still feel that powerful calling, I say go for it.  But please, please, please ask for and accept help.  You will need it more than you can possibly imagine.  And forgive yourself when you make mistakes, because you will – again and again – even when you’re 80 and your baby is 50.  It’s most definitely a marathon, not a sprint.

If you don’t want to have kids, will you be bold enough to make that statement with confidence in public?  Maybe you’re honest with yourself about not being a kid-person.  Or maybe you love kids and simply want to play a different role in their lives.  I had the pleasure of seeing Elizabeth Gilbert speak at a book signing for Eat, Pray, Love, where she explained to us the importance of what she calls the “Auntie Brigade.”  Gilbert decided not to have children herself but generously provides her sister with much-needed breaks and vacations alone with her husband, taking her auntie role very seriously.  She says, “I think one of the reasons why aunties are so important is because every child needs a responsible, loving, caring, adoring adult who is not a parent where they can go to visit and be safe and be loved and be cared for.  And that’s also where they can practice expressing different sides of their personality, in a new environment that’s got different rules but the same amount of boundaries of love.”  I would change the label to “Auntie and Uncle Brigade” because I also know many fabulous uncles who don’t have children and play a key role in their nieces and nephews’ lives.  Whether or not you want to be part of this brigade, if you choose not to have children, I encourage you to communicate openly about your reasons and feelings.  It could provide great comfort to others who feel the same way you do.  The bottom line is that having children is a choice and whatever choice we make should be our own and should be thoroughly considered from every angle.

I look forward to hearing what you have to say on this!

*As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, I have never been able to find adequate words to convey my love for my children.  The piece below comes close, so I thought I’d share it for those of you who love sappy, sentimental mommy stuff, as I do. 🙂

Patricia
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MOTHERHOOD… IT WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE by Dale Hanson Bourke


Chicken Soup for the Woman’s Soul

Time is running out for my friend.  We are sitting at lunch when she casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of “starting a family.”  What she means is that her
 biological clock has begun its countdown and she is considering the prospect of motherhood.

“We’re taking a survey,” she says, half jokingly.  “Do you think I should have a baby?”  

”It will change your life,” I say carefully.  

”I know,” she says.  “No more sleeping in on Saturdays, no more spontaneous vacations…”

  But that is not what I mean at all.  

I look at my friend, 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 childbirth heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will be forever vulnerable.  

I consider warning her that she will never read a newspaper again without asking, “What if that had been my child?”  That every plane crash, every fire will haunt her.  That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will look at the mothers and wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think she should know that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will immediately reduce her to the primitive level.  That a slightly urgent call of “Mom!” will cause her to drop her best crystal without a moment’s hesitation.  I feel 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 successfully arrange for child care, but one day she will be waiting to go into an important business meeting, and she will think about her baby’s sweet smell.  She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure he is all right.

I want my friend to know that everyday routine decisions will no longer be routine.  That a visit to Mc Donald’s and a five year old boy’s desire to go to the men’s room rather than the women’s room 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 danger may be lurking in the rest room.

I want her to know that however decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.  Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but 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 it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not so much to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his.

I want her to know that a cesarean scar or stretch marks will become badges of honor.  My friend’s relationship with her husband will change, but not in the ways she thinks.  I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is always careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his son.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with her husband again for reasons she would never have imagined.

I wish my modern friend could sense the bond she will feel with other women throughout history who have tried desperately to stop war and prejudice and drunk driving.  

I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration of seeing your son learn to hit a baseball.  I want to capture for her the laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time.  I want her to taste the joy that is so real that it hurts.

  My friend’s quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.

“You’ll never regret it,” I say finally.