baby rambles

Summer has lost the battle, as it always does when October nestles itself into our trees, and this morning our sun room is gray from this rather sun-less Friday. Socks have become a necessity, blankets are pulled tighter, the windows must be closed at night. We feel normal now, our lives that were once cooped-up, packed up, are beginning to ooze gracefully out of our bodies, even out of our home; we are leaving our messes everywhere as students' hearts let us in and we let theirs in, as we pour out our selves to a church, spill out our hearts in prayer for new things, greater vision, changed lives.

 
We have done more than unpacked our boxes. We feel our hearts unloading, our guards diminishing, and calling anywhere else "home" grows more and more foreign. We drove back from our Fall Retreat on Sunday and as we found ourselves between the two Mankato bluffs, crossing the river, I realized that home, a once far-off dream is now a reality, and autumn makes any home feel more cozy, more welcoming, more ours.

 
What I am about to say has been mulling in my heart for awhile, and I must address that these are thoughts that have not become opinions yet, so please refrain from arguments or offense, as I'm still navigating through the waves of this and still feel very far from finding land.

 
It started with the first news, almost whispered in a coffee shop with an overwhelmingly understated smile, then grew with each passing announcement either shared in private or social media. I have had to come to terms with the fact that the "wedding phase" of my life has ended. I came out with 9 bridesmaid dresses from weddings in four different states. This phase of my life was imperative to the development of my dancing skills, as well as other things like meeting my current husband. The wild ride that is bridesmaiding has ended, perhaps exempting a few potential outliers, but I am more than ready to lay the dresses to rest.

 
But with the end of one phase blossoms a new one, as foreign and uncomfortable as the first bachelorette party I planned: the babies. A whole new ball game. Rather than being forced to purchase clothes for yourself, you are expected to purchase clothes that a child will wear approximately three times before he or she grows too big for it. You become accustomed to asking the question they already hear much too often, "how are you feeling?" because you don't know what else to ask. I have already planned a double baby shower, and met three of the five babies that have been born to close friends within a four month window.

 
This phase has had an odd effect on me, ranging from an unbridled desire for my own baby all the way to suggesting to my husband, "maybe we should just never have kids," which is the side of the spectrum I've remained on for the past few months. There is something about bearing my own children that is wholly unappealing to me, and the reasons vary. Sure, there are the simple biological reasons, as words like "tearing" and "stitches" and "mucous plug" have made me gag in the past and still beckon bile up my esophagus to this day.

 
Part of it is the culture of borderline child worship that has crept into not just society, but our churches. In fighting back the pro-choice movement, fighting the "working mom" culture, we have made children out to be the center of our world, made motherhood to be the most sacred of offices (I just cannot say that motherhood is more important than a missionary to the unreached. I just can't.). We hold dearly to the first mandate that was inherently biological, "Be fruitful and multiply," while ignoring the new one that is inherently spiritual, "Go and make disciples". Oh what if, under this new mandate, we joined with the barren matriarchs of old crying out with the same anguish not for children, but for spiritual disciples, for new believers?

I have witnessed moms who love their children more than their husband, and more than their Savior. And I know myself, how I already dote over my friends' darling babes and re-watch the videos they send me over and over. How much more will I adore a child of my own, thus being tempted to ignore my sweet husband and our sacred love, or worse, my Savior? I am told your whole life is put on hold once children come into the picture, that life revolves around these children, and I just can’t reconcile that right now. I can understand them being one of my ministries, but not my only one. Not when there are so many needs in this world that I can be part of meeting. I read those MomBlogs that everyone shares and I want to ask these blogger moms, “Do you care about anything else but your child?"

Of course, personal reasons play into this as well. My Mother's jaded relationship with her mom that resulted in a jaded relationship with me has made me apprehensive to motherhood. What makes me so special that I can break this cycle of dysfunction? And with my precious friends, I would be lying if I said it didn’t hurt slightly knowing that I have been bumped down once again on their priority list, something I initially dealt with when they all got married and know the pangs of this reality will not subside unless I give in and bump them below the offspring on my own priority list.

Don't write me off, I do feel this sense of motherhood in my heart. I cannot ignore that my body biologically cycles around whether or not I have conceived. The fact that babies are so natural, come so easily (obviously exempting the infertile couple, for whom my heart aches), how our bodies are made to make babies is so inherent and admittedly un-ignorable. I see that. I find myself sometimes longing to join my friends in motherhood so I can experience it with them. But I think it’s the choice that is hardest for me. In our modern world, despite the obvious accidents, we can choose to have a child. My husband and I have chosen for the past (almost) two years to not have children, and our responsible use of proper methods have made this more than possible, but almost dependable. No longer is having children inevitable, it is optional. For us, now, having children (again, exempting an accident) would be a choice.

But that is a choice I cannot currently bring myself to make. Create a helpless being who will need me for at least 1.5 decades, while there are millions of orphans, millions in the foster care system? The idea of my future child does not yet have a beating heart; but the millions of lonely, already beating hearts around the world beg me--beg us, as followers of Christ--to perhaps listen past our desires for a baby "of our own". How could I, how dare I, simply ignore them and "make my own" because it's easier, cheaper, less messy? What if every Christian couple adopted instead of bearing their next child? How would the world change for the better? I cannot ignore this possible reality.

Again, don’t hate me. These are feelings that aren’t yet opinions. But these words keep running through my mind late at night and I thought that perhaps getting them out would help me sleep, or even give me clarity.