Rachel Allred lives in California and loves her husband, her two young kids, and ice cream (not necessarily in that order). She generally tries to make the world a more empathetic place.
I read Carolyn’s post on being terrified about having kids at 4am. I turned to BCC to help me stay awake just over halfway through my two-year-old’s five-hour vomiting marathon (20+ times). Fortunately he only woke up his baby sister twice. I’m responding to that post in bits and pieces while I’m home with that two-year-old and missing an important work deadline.*
Having kids isn’t for everyone. The fears in Carolyn’s opening post are realities for so many women (and men) who parent. Platitudes about how kids’ cuteness makes parenting worthwhile are probably evolutionarily true. But they neither do justice to the myriad reasons why anyone would go on the destructive mission that parenting sometimes feels like (especially to a vomit-covered hypochondriac like me), nor the bone-deep motivations that others have for opting out.
I don’t think the future of the world rides on the childbearing status of any one person’s uterus (not even the Virgin Mary). It rides on each of us using our agency to create a world for God’s family, however we are called to do it. And like the decision if/when/how to have children, how we create that world, what constitutes that calling for each of us, lies squarely between us and God.
The social pressure regarding nuclear families that keeps us from honestly assessing how we create a better world for God’s family seems counterproductive at best, and cruel and unworthy at worst. It pigeonholes us into roles many of us have to be threatened into taking (“you will singlehandedly bear responsibility for the destruction of all humankind if you don’t do this”) or guilted into performing (“this is your divine destiny and identity, so any resistance you feel is your fallen mortal nature and you’d better repent/change it”). It chains us to unfalsifiable standards that can leave us anxious and reeling.
There are so many ways to be a good person in the world, and so many ways to create a world for God’s family. Tim’s comment (second on Carolyn’s post) says:
Your decision on when or if to have children won’t “bring upon individuals, communities, and nations the calamities foretold by ancient and modern prophets.” The “disintegration of the family” will do that. And disintegration of families is happening for many reasons–including governments tearing children away from parents at the border, preventing families from being together through tyrannical deportations, and country-specific immigration bans. If you’re involved in fighting any of that, you are fighting for families.
Amen.
Turns out, children were part of my calling. But I almost didn’t find that out.
I’ve always wanted a career, I never liked babysitting and I felt awkward around children I didn’t know (a divine “weakness” I tried to “fix” through abundant exposure). I felt further disqualified because I hate all things shabby chic.
I had — word-for-word, including my response — the same conversation as Carolyn about supporting my future husband so my children (sons) could have a brighter future, only instead of my Laurel advisor, it was with my parent. I never considered repenting, I just stayed confused, resistant, and afraid. I stalled through college coursework and beyond, anxious and unable to seriously consider what career would be best for me. Every time I tried to take myself seriously or think of a career that didn’t center around children, social/family messages of “you’re a sinner, you’re a sinner” played over and over in my head, drowning out everything else. I couldn’t tell if the voice came from my parents/society or God.
But a little less than a year before I got pregnant with my now-vomiting 2-year-old, I realized I’d never once stopped to think about what my parenting status would mean to *me.* I hadn’t thought independent of my parents telling me it was the only way to be a good female in God’s eyes, society telling me it would cost me everything, and my parents saying it was God’s will that it cost me everything. So I stopped and thought about it. Did *I* want kids?
It took some therapy to separate the question from the baggage, and I ended up deciding it was almost a toss-up. Almost, except for one feeling I heard a pediatrician put into words years later. Yes, kids are cute and funny and all that. But the act of raising any child is the ultimate act of humility, an act of faith. It is the magical and terrible process of watching a human come into being. It is witnessing, in a participatory way, the becoming of a person.
And I wanted that. Even right this second, awash in hours of someone else’s vomit, it is the right fit for me. Last night, my trembling little toddler repeatedly pleaded to be “all done” throwing up; it was only after he reached for my hand that he finally fell asleep. Throughout the night he repeated the words I’d told him, that he was brave, that his body was doing important work to make him feel better. He snuggled in my arms as he watched Cinderella for the first time this morning. That was all cute and sweet. But it would have been horrible to have a kid for the cuteness and sweetness of those moments.
Rather, in the ultimate experience of humility, I participated as my little human came more fully into being last night. I watched and waited with him as he experienced suffering, as he learned about unremitting pain. I witnessed the grace and resilience and strength of my little child grow before my eyes. I felt a sacredness on the floor of that bathroom that I’ve never felt at church, the temple, or anywhere else. And because the privilege of watching my human come into being is usually less heartbreaking and lets me sleep at night, parenting is a good fit for me.
My candid, insightful mother-in-law often reflects on her own almost-a-toss-up decision to have children (and I paraphrase): “You never know what’s great about having a child until you do it. People can tell you and tell you but until you experience it yourself, you just don’t know. It’s okay if you don’t want to know — no one should have children just because someone tells them to. It’s way too excruciating for that. I’m just saying you can understand what’s so terrible about it before you get there. You can’t understand what’s so wonderful about it until you’re in it.”
In other words, having children is (among other things) an act of faith and humility. And I believe God can guide us to and through our personal acts of faith — the scary ones and the fun ones, with children (biological, adopted, fostered, etc) or otherwise.
So, to the post that inspired this — Carolyn, good luck. If you do decide to have children, consider purchasing some carpet cleaner for pet stains as a precautionary measure. Either way, I hope you find and feel confident in whatever path your next stage opens up to you.
*(I’m not the only one affected by a sick kid. The consequences to my husband have been different but just as intense.)
Photo by ketan rajput on Unsplash