I remember a time in the recent past when, if someone asked me whether I could see myself having children, I would have just immediately answered “no”. Never. Not a chance. No complex reasoning behind my answer, either. Simply that answer and then moving on to the next topic of conversation.
As I write this, I’ve lived with a tiny human for almost two years now. It’s been a challenge. It’s been a delight. I’ve felt like a monster sometimes, and other times my heart bursts with joy.
So I was forced to ask myself why I thought I’d never have a child in my life. I mean, it’s not like I didn’t like children. I loved hanging out with them, and they seemed to gravitate toward me.
But in my previous life, my partner had already decided that simply wasn’t going to happen. So why should I even commit any thought energy to even wanting children? It certainly made sense at the time, and it was the right decision then.
(Let me take a moment to clarify something. There are those who either don’t want or can’t have children. I have sympathy for those who are unable. And I have compete respect for anyone who doesn’t want one. I know what it was like having people insist that my choice was just a phase or that I would be somehow incomplete without having procreated. It’s not true. You are complete no matter what your circumstance, and your choice is valid.)
Now that I’ve lived this life, I know I like it. I’m good at it (most of the time), and I know I can do it again. I’m planning on something I never thought would be an option to me: bringing another life into this world. (NOTE: nobody is pregnant yet. I said we’re PLANNING. Turn off your klaxons.)
I’m honored to be part of young Kiddo’s life, and I’m glad I get to play a part of her three-parent system. I’ve gained her father as a friend, and I’m looking forward to many future days of drinking whiskey with him while watching her play and tell her stories.
Anyone who knows me from many years ago, could you have imagined this of me? (I know that question is a bit self-indulgent.) If I could tell past-me what my life would become, he would stare, dumb-struck. He’d tell me that I’d got it all wrong. That there was no way his life would take such a turn.
But sometimes when you read a book, the chapter changes before you know it. In a good book, even a single sentence can change the whole plot. You never see it coming, and yet in hindsight it’s the only sentence that makes it all work. (This paragraph is a metaphor, btw. Life is a book, etc…)
It’s been a while since posting, but things keep changing, and only for the better.
I love you all, and I love life. Be kind to one another.