Knowing the Unknown
Is it normal that every other month or so Simon and I find ourselves quite accidentally at home, on the couch, in front of the t.v., watching, of all things, Supernanny, and discussing in some detail how we plan to handle specific child-rearing situations?
But, hey, shouldn't it be?
Last night we watched a mother struggle over getting her three little girls dressed in the morning, and Simon and I reacted as we always do to reality t.v. shows: I make all kinds of unfounded speculations about the woman's childhood and self-esteem and relationship with her husband and her age and her religion and her social status and her job (or lack thereof) and how many kids she had in how many years and what kind of car she drives and how many carats are in her wedding ring and how she does her hair and how if she changed all that she wouldn't be in the trouble she's in now. In turn, Simon tells me to stop making assumptions about someone I don't know, and then he beats Supernanny to her own magical solution by suggesting the mother give each of the girls a choice of two outfits in the morning, thereby retaining some degree of parental control while simultaneously allowing the girls a sense of autonomy, duh, wasn't it obvious?
Between the first episode and the second, however, a little bird must have landed on Simon's shoulder and whispered something in his ear because out of nowhere he was no longer absorbed with Nanny JoJo and said, "We should be doing something other than watching t.v. We should read. Or talk about something that's actually relevant," which of course meant that logic suggested a thiry-one-year-old childless man should not "waste" an evening learning how to connect emotionally with his non-existant five-year-old daughter. On some level, I have to agree, but on another level, that's a GREAT way to spend an evening every few months or so and it will probably do us a whole lot more good than talking about the latest roller derby fashions. (Two thumbs down for the tiny fedora perched at a jaunty angle atop the nasty dredlocks.)
Simon and I grew up with pretty ingenious parents, two couples who seemed to know just how to handle each of our particular personalities. If our kids come out with halos and downy soft wings, Simon will know how to handle them, and if they emerge with mischief in their eyes, I've got some "advanced" techniques already in my back pocket. I think we're good to go. Watching the televised trainwrecks that are other peoples lives only makes me feel better about us.
But watching these parenting shows has different effects on him and me, it seems. When a three-year-old bites his sister just for fun, I break out with the theories and the techniques and the direct eye contact and firm voice and the "naughty chair" and pat myself on the back for having all the right answers. And Simon? He breaks out into hives. What if they're mean? he says. What if they don't eat their vegetables? he says. What if I have to spend all my money on FisherPrice farm animals instead of guitars and bikes? What if I never have sex again?!
And so I reassure him that the very fact that we're discussing these possibilities and forecasting how we might handle them is a sign that we're less likely to be found hiding in the closet from our evil spawn in ten years. And more likely that we'll take care of each other as partners, like we do now. But you never know, he says. I know, I answer.
And like two passengers in a well-balanced canoe, the more unsurity he voices, the greater my show of confidence. I suppose it's a good thing overall, but I wonder what of my own insecurities I'm overlooking while I'm busy countering his every worry with armored reassurance. I wonder what I don't say because I don't want us to capsize.
Today I realized that the time I allow myself to freak out about the uncertain future is while I'm reading blogs by myself and don't have to carry the weight of sunshiney certainty for the both of us. Have you read the blogs out there by people who have been through IUI and IVF and the ridiculous red tape of adoption? Have you read about the sick little preemies who die only days out of the womb? Have you read about the perfectly healthy full-term babies who die unexpectedly in their sleep? There are babies born with heart conditions, with developmental disabilities, with things now so mundane as ADD, which seems pracitically a blessing considering all the other things that might have gone wrong. There are parents who die in car wrecks, hurricanes that smash houses to bits, global warmimg.
Yes, yes, yes, Simon would say. All of those things do go wrong. All of those things can go wrong. All of those things might go wrong. For us.
And that seems to be the point at which he's ready to throw up his hands and forget the whole parenting gig, while I become even more eager to dive in and see what it's like because I much prefer the horrible known to the horrible unknown, crazy as that sounds. Ever since this site started making the rounds a few days ago, I've been freaking out about the possibility that one day my body will not be twenty-seven years old. Ever since I realized that it costs half a million dollars to buy a house in the Bay Area, I have been freaking out about raising my kid in a rented apartment that is forty degrees in the bedroom in the winter. Ever since Leta had trouble walking...Ever since Jackson got smacked by his babysitter...
But then again...
Maybe I'm freaking out over nothing. Maybe the apartment won't be so bad without a space heater. Maybe my tummy won't wrinkle and sag. Maybe I just won't care like I think I might. And the worst part about it is that it's impossible to answer any of these questions from this point in time, who-knows-how-many-years out from when it will all happen for me. And thus it is that I long to just get there already, to be allowed to worry about the things that are instead of the things that might be (or might not be, fingers crossed).
Internet: you are my comfort and my undoing. Television: you started it.
You mean I'm not the only one who, when seeing that site, both took comfort in and felt horror about what my body might look like if I have kids? You mean I'm not the only one who is afraid of said hypothetical body?
Man, if I have body issues now, with my healthy strong 27-year-old body, what kinds of issues might I have after babies come out of me?
I only hope that I won't care so much as I do now.
ps I think it was Henry that was smacked by the babysitter.
Of course people have sex after becoming parents or every kid would be an only child! It's just not as often performed on the kitchen table in the middle of the day (sadly).
I think we all, to a degree, are wired to fear change. Getting older is like slowly being kicked in the crotch, but after a while you take some steps to soften the blows. Eventually, life marches on, you look at the wonderful family you're blessed to have, and you temporarily feel no pain. You can sort of remember what it was like before your child was born, but you know that was just practice for now. It's expensive, it's a ton of work, and you hardly even think about that from day to day because it's all so awesome.
Granted, my son is only 3 and 1/2. Granted, our discipline of choice ("The Spoon") almost never fails but takes more guts than we have sometimes to apply. But, goodness sakes, when we hug him he hugs back. And that's just ONE thing. Wouldn't trade him, or that feeling, for anything.
Steve & I often find ourselves in the same position occassionally catching SUPERNANNY and talking about parenting aftewards. Obviously some of those people have no clue. Granted, I am not a parent nor have I ever been one; but some of the things they do floor me!
I think it's a great way to break the ice and start talking about important things like - how to raise your kids, what to do about discipline, the fact that we want to actually sit around a kitchen table and eat together and talk instead of all being in our own corners watching tv. It IS scary and exciting and all of that. I'm already paranoid that I will have trouble conceiving and we're not even there yet. I guess all we can do is push on and hope for the best, learn from our friends (real life ones and internet ones) and go on.
I watched those same episodes of Supernanny the other night and I have to say I was mortified when that first mother put identical, itchy white sweaters on the three girls. I decided right then and there that having my kid NOT look like a street urchin is not going to be a huge priority. I will pick my battles.
I can really relate to your post, I am in the throes of full-on panic about all of the unknowns. Yesterday I did my first bit of research into finding childcare (we're pretty dependent on both our incomes) and came to the horrible conclusion that childcare costs about 50 dollars a day less than I make every day. I'm just holding my breath, crossing my fingers and taking a leap of faith that all these things will work themselves out.
And also, the internet is evil. There are way too many scary, baby-related things out there. I had to cut myself off.
I am of the opinion (ah, the wisdom of the old and opinionated) that people who make the effort to plan and to think about what kind of parents they will be, are most apt (and best prepared) to work through any difficulties parenthood zings at you. Far too many people don't take it seriously. And, by that, I mean, that far too many people don't think about what being a mom or a dad is supposed to be. I mean...it's a job, you know. You elect to bring another person into the world and it's your job to try to turn them into autonomous, reasonably sane, worthwhile humans.
I don't know that there are any 'standard' answers, but I can tell you that if you do it with a sense of humor and an abundance of love, you're odds are better than average. At least that's been my experience.
I will also note that it doesn't do much good to "borrow trouble". Worrying about the unwanted problems that pregnancy can bring only tends to make the situation worse. Don't ignore problems you may encounter when you're pregnant, but try (really hard and I know it's not easy) not to freak out.
Having had my last daughter three months early (she weighed in at 1 lb. and 15 oz.) was the most difficult thing I've ever done. She was in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit for 2 months and had a couple of scary setbacks. The singular thing that I came away from that experience with (other than my delightfully healthy and happy child) was an invaluable education on what the medical profession is capable of in these situations. And they do it every day. And every day they get smarter. Twenty years ago, my (now) six year old, may not have survived at all. Certainly, if she had, she would have had all kinds of lifelong problems. I had no idea the advances that had been made until I had to see them up close and personally.
You deal with what life throws at you every day. Do you really believe that you won't when you're a parent?
One tiny piece of advice, I'd offer. Be flexible. What works for someone else may, or may not, work for you. I'll even go as far as saying what works for one child, may, or may not, work for subsequent children. Be flexible.
Now, somebody hand the old broad her cane and shawl, will ya?
Worrying about all of the negative possibilities related to pregnancy & child-rearing can drive you batty. It's kind of like watching a documentary about plane hijackings before you go on a flight :)
Yes, embarking on the parenting journey is a little frightful, but the rewards are a million times better than the risks. And you never really know what you're doing - it's all about the "let's see if THIS works" attitude.
Just keep a sense of humour :)
The whole process from getting pregnant, to staying pregnant, to giving birth, and then raising your kids is the hardest thing you will ever do. I can guarantee it. But what you won't really understand until you are on that journey is the incredible joy of, not only doing the hardest thing you've ever done, but also looking at a face (maybe for moments, maybe for years) and know that it represents Leah and Simon together in a way that can never be separated.
As for the body stuff. Everybody's body goes downhill at some time or another. Why not let it be for a good cause?
MU: Aren't brownies cause enough? Because they sure are good.
Holy crap, Leah. That just scared me out of my baby-wanting woes. I know that's superficial and wrong, but... umm...
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