On Childbearing

I'm sitting here listening to the Serial podcast (I'm way behind so no spoilies) drinking tea and letting my dogs in and out (in and out, in and out). Dolly thinks it's a game. We've been lucky enough to start this week with a couple of snow days and I'm selfishly hoping for another one tomorrow.


(If you'd like to skip over my ramblings there's a 5 point summary at the bottom of the page).

 

 

 

Sunday night we babysat for some of our friends to enjoy their Valentine's Day. We built forts, made Valentines, made kid  food: chicken nuggets, French fries, and mac & cheese (which is not all the different from how we  normally eat), painted, and pretended the dogs were grizzly bears.

 

 

 

It is always fun to watch Drew with kiddos because he gets to be his silliest self. Between the kids we have babysat occasionally here and my niece I get to imagine what Drew would be like as a dad. Listening to he and Parker belting out "Let it Go" upstairs the other night filled my heart with joy. He is so in tune with the kiddos needs and jumps on to me when I put too many parameters on their creativity i.e. when I say things like "No, do it like this" (if you know my mother then you know I can't help but say things like that). I know he would be the most loving, creative, involved dad. I would never have to worry about the dreaded "daddy issues" with our future kids. There's only one hiccup...

 

 

Neither of us wants kids of our own. And to make matters worse my students have taken it on as their personal goal to ensure that I procreate. The teenagers with whom I spend my waking hours cannot fathom the fact that I don't want children. I'm not sure if they take it personally (like I don't want kids because I'm afraid they'll turn out like my students) or if it is just the cultural expectation: you get married and you have kids. That's what people do. Especially people my age (as one student lovingly pointed out the other day, I'm not getting any younger). They've gone so far as to begin a twitter campaign that goes something like this: "If this gets 10 retweets Mrs. Moore-Hubbard will have a baby." The rumors I heard brought the final number of retweets in at 14 which to them meant victory and they are still awaiting my pregnancy announcement.

 

I understand the students and I appreciate where they are coming from. They say that they think I would make a good mom and why don't I want a precious newborn baby. I get it, most days. What I don't get are grown people who can't seem to support our decision. One of my favorite grad school professors was the first person I heard use the phrase "childless by choice." I've since co-opted it as my own. My other mantra that I wish would catch on among adults I shamelessly stole from Amy Poehler:

 

"Good for her, not for me."

 

 

 

 

My life is full and I wish more people could be supportive/understanding of it. I stopped counting the women who said "Just wait, I was the same way. You'll change your  mind." or "I never truly knew what life meant until I had children." What if I said the reverse, what kind of reaction would I get. "Just wait until you have that baby, you'll wish you hadn't. Believe me." That's not okay. Even I know that.

 

The misconception that I hate most is that because we don't want children we must hate children. Or have no idea what to do with them. Humble brag: we would be kickass parents. We love spending time with kids but we also love sending those same kids home to their parents at some point.

 

My sister is pregnant and my other "sister" just had her second child. I am over the moon in love with all of the kids in my life. I can never get enough of them and hate that I miss so much living 3 hours away. But I would do anything I could for them. There are so many kids to love in my life that I don't feel as though I'm missing anything.

 

I worried for years that my mom would never be okay with this choice (and since I require her "okay" for a lot of things it took her saying she was okay with it before I was really okay with it). But the other part that made me sad was that I knew what amazing grandparents my parents would be.  They were MADE to grandparent. Thank God my sister saw that and is going to make them the happiest people in the world come July.

 

Okay here are the highlights if you're confused by my ramblings:

 

1. "Good for her, not for me." let that be your motto for EVERYTHING
2. I love kids.
3. I will babysit your kid.
4. Stop telling me to have kids.
5. Pray for another snow day tomorrow.

 

 

A Love Story

Seeing as February is the month of looove I wanted to share with you all the second most important love story to me: my parents. I asked my mama to write a little something. I hesitate to say what my dad's reaction would have been had I asked him he's a man of few words. So here is the purest love story that I know of on this earth. 

As the youngest child of parents who had reared eleven children, I knew there were rules, written in stone about what age a girl could go on a date.  So when I asked to go out with a boy, five months shy of my 15^th birthday, I was pretty shocked that they reluctantly allowed it.  I guess that proves that theory of easing up on the discipline of each successive child.

I had always like boys…in general.  I’d just as soon have one for a friend as a girl. Girls somehow seemed too girly.  So halfway through my sophomore year of high school, one of those “boy” friends mentioned his good friend to me, and asked if I knew him.  I did.  It was a very small school, and you at least “knew of” everyone there.

Other boys had asked me out, they were popular, nice looking athletes.  I wouldn’t call myself any of those things at the time, and to be honest, they scared me.  I knew why they would ask a girl like me on a date, and while I was flattered, I was also smart.  This particular boy was all the things I mentioned earlier, but there was a difference; a sweetness, a goodness in his boyish face.

I told our mutual friend it was okay for him to call me.  I was putting my one and only pair of cherished levis into the dryer when my pink, princess phone rang.(I had my own phone line, unheard of in 1981).

Somehow we both knew very quickly that we would likely never date anyone else.  To say things moved quickly would be conservative; class ring on the first date (My mom laughed), promise ring shortly thereafter,  and engaged before we left high school.

I had always felt completely loved and adored by my own daddy, so Ididn’t need a man’s attention or approval for that reason, but how thankful I am that God introduced us to each other at a young age.  Of course we didn’t give Him the credit until many years later.

Some may say we missed out on a lot of fun or different experiences, but I don’t guess I’ve mentioned the fact that I was basically a 30 yr. old teenager, and down-to-earth isn’t really adequate in describing how my husband’s brain works.  We never had much use for a lot of nonsense.  Oh I loved high school…LOVED it!  You would find me at every ballgame, cheering the loudest at pep rallies, and I wouldn’t have dreamed of missing a dance or prom.  I had a remarkable group of close friends that I also spent a lot of time with that I still love and see regularly today.   But I was a rule follower, and I was a Christian.

I don’t want to give the impression that I was a 15yr old country girl who couldn’t wait to get married, leave home, and have babies.  I just happened to fall in love with the perfect boy at a young age.

 

 

We graduated high school, him a year before me.  He attended a hometown college and I moved 3 hours away to attend cosmetology school.  For a year and a half, we talked on the phone once a week, no cell phones, and long distance calls were expensive.  We wrote letters, that I still have today, and only saw each other once or twice a month.

When I graduated and came home, he still had a year of college left and a part-time job at Lowe’s.  We had been dating four and a half years and we were ready to stop having to say goodbye.

Our wedding was on a beautiful sunny day in August.  It was 1985 and peach bridesmaids dresses and cummerbunds seemed a logical choice.  We honeymooned in Myrtle Beach and came home to a very small mobile home.  Our life in that 10x50 trailer was a fairy tale to me.  He was teaching school and I was doing hair.

 

 

We spent four more years with “just us” before we welcomed our first baby, a black-haired beauty .  Four years later, we had another beautiful baby girl, and then six years after that, a surprise blessing, a son.  Saying that my husband had always loved me well wouldn’t suffice, and I didn’t think I could love him anymore, until I saw how he loved our children.

 

 

I don’t know why God blessed us with such a special gift as this relationship that we have, but we have both always known it was a gift, and thirty two years ago when I got in that blue impala beside him on our first date, I somehow knew even then, that he would always be the love of my life.

 

Anyone else cry? Maybe it's just me then. Stay tuned for more love stories. Okay, maybe just mine but I'm also taking volunteers. Anybody have an awesome or not-so-awesome-but-God-made-awesome love story? P.S. mine is the latter.