Saturday, August 11, 2018
No regrets, no shame, no blame
We all make decisions, every day of our lives.
Sometimes yes, sometimes no. As a kid, many of the decisions in your life are made without your knowledge, your consent, or even, often, your approval. You learn to adjust, or make do with the shreds of what you have left.
I was an only child. My husband was, too. When we got married we never really discussed having children, since I was totally unfamiliar with babies, as was he. After four years we moved up here, and I realized almost immediately two things: 1) a young married woman who is 'childless" has no business going to baby parties where the new baby is passed around. As soon as you reach for the child, someone reaches in and says, "it's okay, I got her" as if she were a football and I was about to fumble the play. Message received.
My mother was coy about it. She would say, "well, my daughter doesn't seem to want children, so I don't pressure her..." and since I was sitting right there, well, all eyes would turn to the poor depraved and thoughtless girl.
and 2) where we lived at that time was no place to bring a child along. We were living in a house with one leaky old cook stove, no central heating, plumbing, or amenties. I hauled all the water from a dug well, all winter. All the wash was done by hand. I didn't have a driver's license and we couldn't have afforded a car for me anyway. And he was away 11 hours a day. It was a choice we had made to live here, and a serious commitment.
That's really where the timeline for me starts.
Not a good place to be pregnant, go into labor, have the child on the kitchen floor, and then pack it up and go back to hauling wood and water. yes indeedy.
We would not be living here now if we had had kids. My mother, being the family Narcissist, would have had them in her power by the time they could form full sentences. I was just numb enough and young enough to not really understand just how toxic she was. And what is chilling, in looking back, every single one of my 'young men', at least the ones I was drawn to, were also serious control dudes. It was familiar to me, obviously. The man I married was not into control, and that has made all the difference.
If we had had children we would have been living in town, and the house would have had to go to the highest bidder. (Read, developer.) It would have been pulled down, the land divided into umpty-teen house lots, and the history of the place destroyed forever. It's a revelation to realize that there is not a single thing that I can recall now that would have existed to remember.
What I'm heading for here is I have reached the 'no regrets' part of the story, and the long sigh of relief. People tell me I've missed so much. I agree. Different scenario perhaps, different ending.
Our memories are about other things. I'm cool with that. Maybe, in the next life, I'll go down the other pant leg of time, and see how it turns out that way. Maybe, in the next life, I get a different mother. yowza.
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A lot of wisdom packed in here.
ReplyDeleteSelf-knowledge is a magical thing.
thanks. I think only children tend to be more introspective, and add that to the writer gene...(smile)
DeleteWhen I was a kid the word narcissism hadn't even been mainstreamed yet, and while I realized her treatment of me was less than normal, I really never got what she was about. I don't think anyone did.
It helps to know I won this round, finally, and it helps to know that I made some good choices along the way.
I also know that if I had married the man she quietly sent away I would have been deliriously happy, but not entirely. And not here. It's a trade, and sometimes contentment trumps deliriously happy. It does last longer.
If you miss your mom, you can borrow mine. I think mine might be a twin sister to your mom.
ReplyDeleteShoot, I din't miss her when I had her, but thank you for the offer.
DeleteYou have my sympathy, but you keep her. I had my turn. =)
We all choose different paths and hope that in the end, it worked out right for us. Would I do everything the same, probably not, but it all turned out OK and it is my life, and I own it.
ReplyDeleteAnd as I said, not all the choices were mine alone. some of them were made for me, which often changed the playing field from level to war torn. As it were.
DeleteBut in the end, it turned out okay, as you say, and yeah, we do own what we got, and what we have.
the more i get to know you, the more i realize how much we have in common, despite having lived such different lives.
ReplyDeletei too am an only child, and i (also) too concluded that i never wanted a child of my own, largely due to the odd relationship with my mother.
coming to that conclusion means that you are voluntarily opting out of a large chunk of the "joy" so many speak about in their lives. however, i tend to think of it less as a matter of "regrets" and more as a matter of "maybe next lifetime". and if that part never happens? well... i won't know the difference, so i really doubt i would be disappointed.
True enough. We only get one shot at this, for good or ill.
DeleteAnd looking back, I can see that my mother and my children would have been a toxic mix. She had a need to get everyone "on her side', and having malleable grandchildren would have been terrifying to imagine. "How come you don't love Nana? She says you're mean to her and don't love her..." oops.
It wasnt so much the 'opting out' of the joy, it was not wanting opt in, in any fashion. But you know, I view little little babies the way I view puppies: they're fun to play with, fun to cuddle, but then, praise the lord, they go home.
someone else deals with the spit ups and the diapers and the decisions. I get to hold them and watch them bubble.
When I was first married there was a marvelous commercial on TV about motherhood. It listed all the things you hear, that your friends and family say, to pressure you into having a baby. 'I don't have any grandchildren... yet..." and, "You'll see, as soon as that baby is born, you'll wonder how you ever lived with her". "You'd make a GREAT Mom, you've got the hips for it..." And the final line was, it's your body, your choice. No one else's.
And I agree, we have a lot in common, except that my husband doesn't have batman figurines. I have Lego.
My brother and his wife have no children and that was a joint decision from the off I believe and they live perfectly normal lives.
ReplyDeleteOther than the fact they left England and now live in Australia, which I understand is at least one form of madness, and maybe this is why John Z left and went to live in Brazil?
My wife and I do not have a horse, not a camel or hamsters or white mice. This too is something we are both perfectly happy with and feel no shortcomings in our lives at all.
I can never understand this un-written ''rule'' that people simply must produce offspring.
As we only have one life surely one is entitled to live it the very best way one sees fit?
My normal is not anyone else's. As a charge nurse in the hospital said at one point, "the doctors are worried that your BP is too low, but I told them, Judy's BP is her BP, not yours. What works for her doesn't necessarily work for you." and she was right.
DeleteToo many people want to superimpose their lives on top of someone else's, not realizing it's the wrong size, and the colors never match.
And like you, we don't have horses, or goldfish, nor do we grow vast amounts of food, or point toward Mecca three times a day and howl. (the camel might be fun, though).
We are lucky, you and I: we get to do what we want with our lives--and most importantly, we are bright enough to enjoy it as it whizzes by. Not everyone does.
We don't have dogs, because they are too much worry and care up here (our last dog died of porcupine) so it's "cats in at night."
I tend to think of South America in general as its own form of madness, but as you say, to each his own, and if John Z is happy, more power to him.
Ah ... so it finally accepted my comment.
ReplyDeleteAs I said, I do have comment moderation on, to thwart the spammers, and it may have partially been my fault. (hangs head, blushes slightly)
DeleteNo kids here, either. I've always known I had no desire for parenthood. I like kids, and think I could probably be a good parent (and lots of folks who know me well concur), but I just always knew I didn't want to.
ReplyDeleteMy beloved Sandra has three and there are grandchildren and, now, great grands. They all seem to like me well enough, and they know how much I care about them. I'm just glad I didn't have a hand in producing them.
Only occasionally (ie very rarely) have I ever had second thoughts.
The only time I have had second thoughts is when we needed extra hands in the yard, or dragging things around.
DeleteAlso, when we go to HIS family's events, and there are all those teeny people galloping around: but then I realize that since we are now the oldest in the bunch, any kids we had would be the wrong age for ANYONE, being ten years older than the second generation and their kids would be ten years older than the third.
No regrets. They probably wouldn't want to go anyway.
And, yeah, I can see you as ideal grampa material. You're pretty laid-back in some respects, and kids appreciate that.
good for you. you do you. yowza.
ReplyDeleteAnd in very different ways we are both doing the things that matter to us, aren't we, Nova. Yowza, indeed.
DeleteThank you