Ain’t that a tough one? Why? From my manly, defensive, 5
feet and 8 inches stance on life I’ll start by saying what would be the wrong
reasons.
Not because “it’s time.” Why? Because I don’t believe in
this arbitrary “it’s time” – it only flies in the morning fresh bun queue at
some small-town mom-and-pop shop between gossiping neighbors. It’s time when it
happens. No sooner. No later. It’s only time, when it’s time. Zacharias, an otherwise
righteous, even “blameless” man, doubted that “it was time” and just for that
was confined to email and text messages for communication, until his son, The
Baptist, was born. Until it was proven to him, that it was time. It’s time when
it happens.
Not because X and Y already have two. Or three. Friends.
Siblings. Cousins. Mother-in-law’s best friend’s second niece’s tennis partners
who are the same age as you; or, worse yet, four years younger. Not because e v
e r y b o d y has them. Not because your high school homeroom nemesis just
posted online a bunch of photos with a stroller and a little poop-machine in
it. Not because they fly free for the first two years, anyways, and you get to
board first, together with the paraplegics and the amputees. Not because you
could hang the “baby on board” sign (instead of “watch out for Kangaroos for
the next 25km”), or to get the priority seat on the tube. Not to finally put a
stop to the suspicious looks from that lady in 3B, you know, the one in her
early two-hundreds, the one with her late husband’s WWII binoculars in a
leather holster strapped next to her O2 tank, neighborhood watch on her speed
dial and a do-it-yourself evidence collection toolkit attached permanently to
her walker, in case somebody drops the Twinkies wrapper in the hallway. You
don’t do it to be like others, or like others expect.
Not to complete a picture. Because all other pieces of the
puzzle are already there: the house, two cars, a Labrador, a lawn mower, a vintage
motorcycle in a messy garage, a framed in real oak imitation diploma on the
wall, a barbeque in the back yard, and a timeshare in Ft. Lauderdale. No. And
they’re not, actually. Not for me, for us, anyways. Our puzzle starts with
three beating hearts, one going about 150 per minute, and as tiny as it may be,
it fills our picture in its entirety.
But I know that for some, all these things are the prerequisite. For some,
that’s what it all boils down to: possession. Yet another possession. After
all, it’s having children. Not
leasing with an option to buy. Dressing them up. Showing them off. Sending them
off for piano lessons, even if they’re tone-deaf – ‘cause, after all, they’re yours and YOU want it. Bragging about
them as if they were a 60” l-e-d l-c-d h-d-t-v (m-o-u-s-e!) or whatever-else-bites-me…
you know – another something super
cool. Shiny roadster. Pair of Prada high heels. Or some gizmo with a touch
screen and a lower-case “i” in front of its name. You don’t do it to expand
possessions. In the day and age where all we supposedly have can be taken away
in a heartbeat by banks, collection agencies, the tax man, and thieves (I could
actually use just one word here, couldn’t I?), in times when, thanks to medical
advancement, we understand more than ever before how easily and unpredictably
we can transition from having a heartbeat to not having one, you would think we
should better understand that we don’t really own anything. Not even ourselves.
Most certainly not another life. Today more than ever we should be intimate
with John’s vision (in this case Lennon’s, not the Baptist’s) – that there’s no
possession. Not really, anyways. And
yet… look around you. People have a number of kids to match the number of
bedrooms in their house. You know,
the one made of drywall, two-by-fours and aluminum siding, owned by the bank
(and if it’s paid off just try and not pay property tax on it for a couple of
years and see how “yours” it still is) and susceptible to tornadoes like an
unattended jar of candy to a five year old. That is not a good reason for
having a child, either.
You don’t do it because your other half wants it. You don’t
do it to appease. NEVER. You can agree on the paint color for that reason. You
can agree to give up the gift you wanted to make for yourself – a collectible
item or night out with friends. It’s a game of give-and-take, aye. It’s all
about compromises, letting go, forgiving, forgetting, and owning up, at least
every now and then. But you never, never, ever agree to bring a child into the
world just to satisfy somebody else’s need. If you don’t share it, if it isn’t
absolutely mutual, if you’re not both on the same page, than… you should not be
in the same book.
So, what is?
Why do it?
I fear this question so much. “I didn’t ask to be born!” All
parents have heard that at some point. All children scream it at the top of
their lungs at one occasion or another. I know, I’m a former child myself (my
wife would probably dispute the “former” part, on one or two occasions, but
let’s leave it for another day). It comes up, sooner or later, it does. It
stabs the heart. Poisons the mind. Shakes the conscience. It’s a fact of life.
If a kid gets born, he’s bound to say it. And these words will carry like shot
fired in anger. If you ever heard a bullet fly in your general direction you know
exactly how that is.
Today I look at the latest ultrasound picture and can’t help
but think about it already. Why do it? If I know one thing for certain, that is
that I am not ready. I am not ready big time. At least by the standards defined
by the notes of the Federal Reserve. But let’s face it – if I ever considered
this side of life as a part of the equation there would be no ultrasound
pictures to look at; not for a long time.
So money aside, the question remains. For what? For whom?
For us? For the Little One? Is it selfishness? Are we just satisfying our
need-to-have? Is it no different than spoiling yourself at the mall? Is the
Life that is to come just a by-product of our giving in to this need? What have
I got to offer? Do I even have the right to do that?
Is it instinct? Just that? A primal scream of the animal in
us? Nature demanding its tribute?
When I dream about having a child (yes, I’m a of a male
persuasion and I dream about having children, not hot-rods and season tickets
for group sports with the high probability of head-and-neck trauma, go figure),
and I have for a long time – I dream of giving comfort and peace. I dream of
having answers. Long conversations about everything, because nothing will be
unimportant. Because everything will be new and pure. I dream about giving of
the world. I DREAM ABOUT BEING GOD.
And I am. We all are. Those who read the Bible instead of
Sixty Shades of Magenta, or whatever the current bestseller is, may remember
the passage: “I say, 'You are gods; you are all children of the Most High.” I
never really did get it, until now. When you read about creation, you read that
we were made in God’s image. But when you are having a child – this is when you
really know it. I may never be blessed with faith strong enough to fully
understand and take in my heart the God’s gift of His Son’s Sacrifice, but,
boy, do I FEEL God’s gift to me right now. He made me his partner. He shared
Creation with me! I don’t think we can ever be more in communion with God, then
when we are privileged in giving His gift of Life. It’s as if He moved over to
the side of His throne and said: hop on and check THIS out! Now, how you accept
this gift that’s a whole different story. If you are ready for it. If you are
worthy of it. I don’t know if I am. I don’t know if I deserve it. But as Clint
Eastwood mumbled in one of his late westerns: “deserves got nothin’ to do with
it.”
I’m not going to be a Templar on this one and answer: “God
wills it!” I can’t just say “because your mother and I wanted to,” either. I
guess, the only right thing to say would be, that…
you don’t plan to have children. You can’t. Anyone who says
otherwise in an audacious arrogant, even if they succeed. You can only be more
or less ready for them. And then you invite them.
Child of mine, it seems that you accepted our invitation. We
asked that you come. You answered. So many things could have gone wrong. From
our first heartbeat to the last, it’s all about taking chances. So many things
could have stopped you. But here you are – by your own will and perseverance,
even though you are not yet able to understand it, you are your own person with
your own purpose and we - we are just humble and grateful messengers,
delivering the greatest gift of all – LIFE. Not from us, and not for us. It’s
all about you. “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you,” says the Giver of
Life. This Life, this World, they’re yours – we invited you so you could have
them, so you could have it all: laughs and tears, sadness and joy, and love -
like our love. Love that sometimes is blessed with giving Life.
Why have children? Out of love. The
love we have for each other. The love of God who is giving us this blessing.
Finally, the love we have for them, before we have them – when they are just an
idea; the greatest we can have.
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| My earliest memories - the evening view from my childhood window. What will my child remember? |
