On having kids

WARNING: sensitive new-age guy (whiny bitch) talk ahead! Those nauseated by touchy-feely navel-gazing should steer clear.

(Well, it's only sort of navel-gazing-like, but still, you've been warned.)

I should first note that it's not like I'm actively thinking about having kids at the moment any more than a "hmmmm, do I want to have kids one day?" that will occasionally pop into my head. I suppose it isn't such a strange thing -- I don't really know why my initial reaction is to get all defensive over it. (besides being just one of my natural behaviors, that is.)

I mean, every single one of the close married friends from high school that I still keep in touch with already has kids or is due any day. My friends here are having kids. My teammates are having (more) kids. And of course, there are the parent blogs.

And let's face it, I'm not getting any younger. (On the outside, at least.)

The topic of kids came up talking to my hand therapist yesterday.

She hadn't gotten much sleep because her son had been up several times in the middle of the night.

She couldn't remember the last time she slept in on a Sunday and could just relax.

She didn't know where they were going to find the money to send him to college (eventually).

They're all the standard things that have come up in the past (no sleep, no time, no money), so I'll spare you any additional discussion of the thoughts and mental gymnastics over those concerns.

It's the new one that came up after reading Dooce and then PVP (of all places) that I found... er, interesting, I guess. They're about different things, but they feel related, to me at least.

In a nutshell: recognizing that parenthood is a pretty big commitment -- a sacrifice -- it had never occurred to me that a (my) partner's love for you (me) could be eclipsed by the love for something (someone) that was born (hey! is that a pun?!) out of that love.

It seems like it would feel a little like being left out in the cold.

And then, the idea of once again being heartbroken after developing this new love -- saddening. ("Tragic" seemed to be a little too strong.)

And yes, that sounded overly mushy and hearts and rainbows to me (and clouds and rain [...and earthquakes and plagues of locusts!]), but it seems to be the easiest way for me to articulate it in generic, theoretical terms.

And I recognize the selfishness in there, too. It's all about me, baby! (Hmm, unintentional pun. Interesting...) And I recognize that love can die or just whither away for other reasons, or even all by itself, but that doesn't exactly give me comfort.

And I guess the questions of the relative importance of loving versus being loved and what is the capacity of one person to love (to love someone more or less than another) are whole philosophical discussions in and of themselves.

But whatever, there it is. It's not like I'm going to be having kids anytime soon. (Especially given that the SOOTTAD still lives in another city a thousand miles away.)