This or That?

Maybe I'm just a little sensitive to duality lately, but a theme seems to be coming up: To parent or not to parent? Not that this is much of a question for me anymore. The Mister and I have done due diligence on this question -- even continue to take our pulse about it -- keeping in mind that you gotta wanna, we just keep not having kids.

Even after reading something like this from the incredible Stacey at Mama-Om, about being available and deep enough to reflect the depth of her son's emotional needs. Being present to her children requires everything she has and more (you have got to read that post). It brought me to tears. Still, this doesn't seem to be my Path.

BuddhaPublicist, another thirtysomething Buddhist blogger at Giving Notice Now is currently on the Path of not-parenting, and on the occasion of her recent 37th birthday, posted about having an identity crisis:

I'm sure a lot of this has to do with not having children. Women who become mothers in their thirties can focus their attention on their child's milestones while neatly avoiding their own. I'm not saying mothers don't have the occasional identity crisis, too, but for the most part they know what their purpose is for the next twenty-one years: to raise an intelligent, happy, healthy, well-adjusted human. Beyond that...well, they'll worry about it when it happens, in their Empty Nest days.

Parenting does provide a really obvious center of gravity. And in most cases (within some common denominators of class and geography) it means you don't get to express your life as boldly in other ways for a decade or two. But a meaningful life can indeed be constructed without legos.

Earthstore Jizo Bodhisattva

It's hard to see past the polarities. I read a book once about the parenting decision, and in it, a woman struggling with the question to have or not to have, posed her quandary to her OB/GYN. He responded, "When you are in my waiting room, and you see the pregnant women, and the mothers with toddlers, do you feel envy or pity?"

I find this question entertaining, and somewhat helpful, but beware the only-two choices!

Speaking of choices, I just read that today is the 50th anniversary of The Pill. All this choosing is relatively new. This is revealed in the dearth of language to describe the residents of this brave, new, not-parenting world: Childless or child-free? The word "childless" of course connotes bleak, desolate, and empty. Sad, unfulfilled, and the super-buzzword: Barren. Yet the alternative, "child-free" suggests that children are some sort of potentially harmful additive. There is a shade of hedonism in child-free and its companion-buzzword: Selfish. Though I guess for adults of a certain age, particularly women, these words (or lack thereof) illustrate the longstanding cultural weight towards parenting.

Either of these words seem to paint these anonymous adults without children as sadly unmoored and probably unaware of:

1) how lucky they have it and / or

2) what they're missing

Though I suppose the same could be said for the parents.

It is interesting to hear other ways the "childless" are seen when looked at across these different life arrangements. Rachel at 6512 and Growing warmly writes about The Anthropology of Childless Adults:

These childless friends are like glamorous rock stars in my kitchen with their clean hair, houseful of chokeables and weekends yawning open like a board book tossed from a crib. Dan and I study them like anthropologists trying to solve an unanswerable riddle about our own lives without children. It’s like a Zen Koan: if you’re a parent who never had children who are you?

Sometimes I pass by a white Subaru, much like mine, except there’s no car seats in the back. And suddenly that car is awash in sophisticated intrigue, like it’s sole purpose must be to transport gorgeous people to exotic locations whereas my ten year old car is probably headed to the grocery store where I’ll be using all my brain power to launch high-level distractions on the cereal aisle.

Later in the post, Rachel talks about these childless friends of hers, and the energy they have to really be with her children, and appreciate her kids and their "exotic childness". I love the way she bridges the divide by acknowledging the gifts of each world, the village that is created, each world mutually sustained by the other.

Rachel's post wasn't about envy or pity. It was about cross-cultural appreciation!

I am learning that comparison only gets you so far. In fact, it takes you right out of your own body, right out of your own life, right out of the moment, and into the dukkha of judgment.

A more traditional comment from a woman with six children on Rachel's blog went like this:

"There is nothing like parenthood – I don’t know that the intense love for our children can be felt by those that never have children."

Maybe that's true, but I got the identity piece sorted out for myself when I learned the word "allomother". It is a scientific term, used to describe the "aunties" in packs and herds of animals who share the tasks of raising young, giving the mothers their needed breaks, and sometimes even risking their lives to protect the young. In my work and in my personal life, part of my center of gravity, part of the meaning of my life is to be a supportive resource to parents. Last I checked, there was some need for this.

The center of gravity for my life is Buddhist practice. It infuses everything. And I am blessedly, gratefully able to practice deeply. Not to say that the practice of parenting is not deep. Of course it is. And: Retreat practice, committee work, skills training, workshop teaching, etc. all take real time that would not be available, or would need to be put off for some years if I were a parent. And: The fruits of my practice get plowed back into my work, which includes supporting parents. And: I benefit from the creation, nurturing, and careful cultivation of the next generation.

It is all one life.

I'll leave you with this, a gorgeously appropriate excerpt from the poem "The Sabbath of Mutual Respect" by Marge Piercy

...In another life, dear sister, I too would bear six fat

children. In another life, my sister, I too

would love another woman and raise one child

together as if that pushed from both our wombs.

In another life, sister, I too would dwell

solitary and splendid as a lighthouse on the rocks

or be born to mate for life like the faithful goose.

Praise all our choices. Praise any woman

who chooses, and make safe her choice...

...Praise the lives you did not choose.

They will heal you, tell your story, fight

for you. You eat the bread of their labor.

You drink the wine of their joy...