To Have a Child or Not to Have A Child

One of the great quandaries of modern life for young adults (let’s throw a date range out there and say, those people from 20 to 40) is whether or not to have children. Actually, I think this date range is significant. Those in their twenties (perfectly able physically to procreate) probably aren't feeling so much pressure to "make a decision" about becoming a parent; it's when you cross the threshold of 30 (and certainly, the threshold of 40) that the pressure to decide comes down like a nuclear bomb. (For women, this pressure is directly related to the fact that our fecundity diminishes significantly as we cross the 30 threshold, and only continues to diminish as we age. The biological clock is merciless.)

Much has been written on this subject on my favorite online rag, salon.com. I think about the book I read recently, “Eat Pray Love,” in which the author begins her tale by depicting an image of herself in dire emotional straits, sobbing into the tiles in the bathroom floor, because she’d recently past the “30” threshold and everyone expected her to begin the “baby” process with her husband. Only, she didn’t want to have a baby (even though she loved her husband). She greeted her period every month with a sense of unbridled relief and almost glee. But how can it be, she wondered, that she didn’t want to have a baby? Isn’t that what every woman is “supposed to" want? She suffers through profound emotional turmoil as she wrestles with this quandary of whether to become a parent. And since her husband did want to pursue the traditional parenting path, she figured the only true course was to divorce him; and that she did. He, of course, felt wildly betrayed; he seemed to be deeply shocked, and subsequently devastated, over her decision. Isn't every couple "supposed to" procreate? It's only natural, right? (Well, yes, for straight couples; but that's another blog post.)

I think about the movie, "The Hours," in which the Julianne Moore character, a 50's suburban house wife with the traditional husband and two young children, is talking with her neighbor. This neighbor is having difficulty conceiving a child and is clearly distraught over it. She is seeking medical attention to reverse her perceived misfortune. "I don't think a woman can even call herself a woman until she's a mother, " the neighbor says morosely. And yet, the Julianne Moore character, who supposedly "has it all" with her husband and two kids, is profoundly unhappy. She is so unhappy that she ultimately abandons her family.

Why exactly do people have children? We have the luxury of asking this question because we can now control conception, which is a very recent fact of human history. Before the 1960s, a woman had a baby because she had sex with a man and got pregnant. The advent of the Pill actually had a profound effect on what it means to be human (and also, what it means to be a woman), because for the first time in history, women had real control over their reproductive lives. So the statement "Biology is Destiny" is very much colored by the advent of the Pill in terms of reproduction. The Pill enables people (and especially women) to genuinely consider parenthood.

So, back to the question: why do people have children? I think for many people, there is just an assumption that they will "grow up, get married, and have children." Certainly in most of Middle America (literally and figuratively speaking), this is just "what you do." A child is often seen as the ultimate manifestation of love between a man and a woman; and I would say it's "par for the course" for most people.

But what if you never find "the right person" to marry? What about pursuing single parenthood (and all that that implies?) What if you do find "the right person," but he or she doesn't want children? Or, what if you do find "the right person," and he or she already has children? What if you do a ton of soul-searching and come to the conclusion that you simply aren't prepared (emotionally, financially, spiritually, for any or all reasons), to become a parent? Will you regret not becoming a parent as you age? What if you pass that "40" threshold, and are still not a parent, but desperately want to be? What need or issue do we think we'll be addressing if we become a parent? Does this need or issue actually get addressed as we'd anticipated when we do become a parent? Oh, and, what if you're gay? What implications does sexual orientation impose on parenthood? (again, a different blog post)

I would argue that these are all profoundly personal questions; that there is no "right" or "wrong" answer; and that none of us should be judged by the decisions we make regarding parenthood. (And yet, it seems that we are frequently judged; by our families, our friends, our colleagues, and society.) But I'd say that for every parent you ask about his or her decision to become a parent, you'll invariably get a different answer. (The one common thread is probably that it turned out to be much more difficult than anticipated, but is very enriching none-the-less. But this borders on cliche.)

When a person decides to become a parent, that's just the beginning. Then there's all the logistics to consider, which are truly overwhelming these days (especially for a lesbian couple, but again, that's another blog post). How will the child be supported financially? Who will work, who will stay home? Day care? Telecommuting? How will the baby affect my career? How on earth will I have time to work full time and be a parent? What happens to my needs as a person? Will my spouse suffer neglect because I'm too exhausted with work and the baby? The list of considerations is substantial and infinite. But in pre-1960s history, these logistical questions weren't so much hypothetical questions for prospective parents; these logistical questions were faced by people already expecting (whether or not they had the luxury of considering these questions pre-conception).

Now, I don't want to end this post with glib or superficial statements like, "it's all worth it to become a parent" or "you'll just know what to do, it will come to you naturally." Because I'm not convinced that either of these statements are necessarily true for everyone. I think many modern-day adults have suffered many dark nights of the soul when wrestling with these questions of parenthood. Because remember, we're not talking about "parenthood," per se. We're talking about bringing another soul into the world, and all that that implies. So yes, the question of "why do we have children?" is an extremely important question to consider.

Our "Legitimate" Addiction

Addiction: what does this word conjure to you? I think of the following:

• alcohol (our officially sanctioned "legal" drug)
• the long list of "illegal" drugs (heroin probably the most nefarious, pot the most benign)
• food (how many of us rely on food to address an emotional vacuum?)
• gambling (one of the most insidious addictions)
  
• cigarettes (I can vouch for this one; I've struggled with nicotine addiction since my early teens)
  
• porn (there's a reason why crime went down in the 1990s; porn exploded on the Web! people were too busy with porn to commit crimes)
• sex (the most basic human urge which can literally become an all-consuming addiction)

All of these addictions can have profoundly negative consequences, and to a large degree are socially reviled. But I think there's another type of addiction that's infiltrated our society, and that is addiction to media. What do I mean by "media"? I mean:

• your iPod
• your cell phone
• your 64" plasma (and its accompanying TiVo and 500 channels)
  
• your laptop (and its accompanying WiFi)

All of these media machines are perfectly socially acceptable. In fact, I would argue that two of them (the cell phone and the iPod) have practically become ubiquitous extensions of our physical selves. This "media" addiction is hardly socially reviled. In fact, we would be perceived as strange if we didn't have a cell phone, right? "Get with it!"

Now, the cell phone is a somewhat different form of media than the others listed above, because you are using it to communicate with another person; there is interaction, instead of passive consumption. But this other person is only "virtually" there. When we are speaking on a cell phone, it can alienate us from people who are physically with us. The same could be said for a laptop; there are opportunities for interaction (email, chat), but again, these are "virtual" interactions in cyberspace. What implications does this have for how we interact with other people in the physical world?

My concern with media addiction is that it contributes to our modern-day sense of alienation. How can we engage with someone with ear buds? How can we talk to someone who's blathering into his blue tooth ear piece? We can't just sit in a coffee shop anymore; we have to stare into our laptop screen, surfing blogs. And we certainly can't sit at home without the TV on!

Not only does it serve to alienate, but I think media addiction also robs us of opportunities for serious contemplation, introspection and solitude. The media bombards us constantly. (I was at the Rose Garden in a suite the other day, and there's a TV in the bathroom. Why do I need a TV in the bathroom?!)

In this day of constant media exposure and engagement, it requires us to purposefully and mindfully resist media so that we can open ourselves to the real potential for engaging with meaningful things, such as, other human beings!

A larger question is, what's feeding our addictions, be it "traditional" addictions of drugs and alcohol, or "new" addictions, such as media? I think all of these addictions are an attempt to anesthetize ourselves. Addictions are an attempt to escape the daily and compounding emotional pain that we all experience, to one degree or another. An addiction is something that makes us feel good and relieves pain, however temporary the good feeling and pain relief may be. The continued pursuit of addictions is because we're striving to recapture that good feeling and pain relief.