When Andrew was still very small, one of my politically charged FaceBook friends (I have a few) posted a status, or an article, about how couples deciding to have a third child would do better to consider the effect that choice would have on the planet and the destruction of our environment.
I wish I could explain exactly how I felt when I read that. I was... angry. I remember that I wanted to type something, I wanted to say something, to type something, and I couldn't really do it because my hands were shaking and I could remember to keep breathing. It was a very emotional reaction. But I wanted to say something, something not really mean, but something that would show this person, the author of the article, and all of the people who thought this way, how amazingly hurt I was.
Hurt. I was hurt, and I was emotional, and I was angry. Because in my eyes, they were telling me the world was a better place without my child. MY child. My baby. A small human being I devoted my life to, and who I had hopes and dreams and expectations for. And to clarify, none of those hopes and dreams had anything to do with harming the planet.
Yesterday, this friend posted a link to the Thought Catalog's letter to Women Who Choose Not To Have Kids. I didn't bother to read it, honestly,but today he posted that he might do a show (he's a monologist) about population, the environment, and every person's choices about how many children they are going to have.
Again, my hackles went up, but I've had some years to sort through all of the emotions and all of my reactions, so I could better identify what it was, exactly, that I was feeling.
The truth is, even when I read the original article years ago, I knew it had its merits. He was right, he had a point, and the article... It was referring to the simply math of the situation. We have a planet with limited resources. Each person, simply by existing, uses up a number of these resources. More that two children increases the population, and uses up more of the resources, which have no time (or way) to replenish.
More than that, humans have become reckless about their belongings and their waste. We want everything to be disposable, and as soon as something is thrown out, it's out of mind. Given how the average American person disposes of items for convenience or status, the individual's footprint is growing larger and larger. As generations go on, each baby has more babies, and the population increases exponentially. Resources disappear even faster.
I realized this when Andy was an infant. My awareness of my impact on the environment was growing, and I had an infant in disposable diapers. Plastic sip-cups covered my home, and we had buckets full of plastic and electronic toys that were already broken and of no use to anyone. I made some personal choices and changes to my life to reduce our impact to the planet, choices about how often we used our car, how some of our purchases were packaged, how often we ate meat. I stopped buying things I didn't need, a decision that to this day causes people to think I'm stingy and cheap. These choices were sound choices, I believe, and responsible choices.
But none of that would make up for the fact that I brought into the world this extra person. My parents explained to us, when we were young, that each person born replaced an older person. I was born to 'replace' my mother, and my brother was born to 'replace' my father. Well then, we asked, what about our other three siblings? My parents simply pointed to my mother's unmarried sister and told us they made up for adults who had no children. Now, I knew this didn't add up or the population wouldn't be growing, but I still ticked people off when my kids were born. One for me, two for my husband, and three for... well, none of my four siblings had kids, so I should have been covered. I still felt a measure of guilt. Because, in my mind, what my parents had said was hooey, and the theory that more children meant more strain on the environment was sound.
But it isn't that simple, is it? Because we aren't talking about science, we're talking about people.
Yes, there are many women out there who do not have children. Many of these women actually make this choice not to have children, and I applaud them. There is no reason to have a child if you don't want a child. Please! It's too hard a job to go into reluctantly. And for the record, I feel I should step up here and say something about it always being WOMEN who are the odd ones for not wanting children. I know some men out there who also choose not to have children, but no one calls THEM strange. (Actually, that's no always true. Once I told my brother he was weird for not wanting kids, but I take it back now. Never say I don't admit it when I'm wrong.)
Um... where was I? Yes. Women (people) not wanting to have children. That is an OK choice. Just because I chose something different doesn't mean it's the only way. I can breastfeed and still approve of those who use formula. I can be an atheist and still tolerate those who pray. Just as long as they don't expect me to fess up to making a mistake or admit the error of my ways.
Having a child is a very charged issue. Many couples choose not to have children, but many other couples try very, very hard to have children of their own. They see doctors and have treatments and procedures and spend thousands of dollars on the off chance that they might have their own biological derivative. As baffling as this is to me, they do it, and they do it for a reason. Maybe this is the only way they can have a child. Maybe they can't adopt. Maybe they think they won't love a child if it isn't genetically related. Whatever the reason, it's theirs to have. I'm sure that anyone who has leapt through hoops and put forth such emotional investment would resent their child being described as a burden on the planet.
As would anyone who has lost a child.
We aren't logical with our children. We're emotional. We're primal.
What does this mean?
Well, it isn't just our kids. I mean, when you look at it, we're all burdens on our planet. Some more than others, depending on habits, environment, and how often we buy a new iphone. If we're going to survive, we're going to have to take a look at all of our habits, from how often we use disposable plates, to how often we upgrade our phones, to the reasons we want to have children.
Now, I know a number of families with multiple children. (Hello, I live in suburbia!). I know families with multiple children that would like to have more, some of them having more (the people down the street have 9. Nine. I go slightly crazy thinking about it.) The thing is, these families are wonderful families. The children are wonderful and brilliant and a joy. I believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person, and that includes each member of the family with nineteen children whose parents just keep on reproducing because that's apparently what God wants. (Maybe God does want that. Maybe God wants the Earth overpopulated? I wouldn't know, I'm not a believer.) Hey, hooray for them. I disagree, but I don't think we could morally put a limit on the number of children a family could have.
But in general, the middle of the sane, reproducing-age population should take a hard look at why they're doing what they're doing. I'm not saying not to go for it. Hey, I did. I had two boys. I wanted a girl. We didn't make a decision to try, we just... stopped trying not to. Now I have three boys. Part of me wanted to keep going. Part of me wanted to try for that girl, and honestly, I can't say that, under different circumstances, I wouldn't have tried a last time.
Because I love babies. I love kids. I've loved kids ever since I was a kid. I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up. I couldn't tell you what my house looked like or what my husband and I would do on the weekends, but I could tell you that I was going to be A MOTHER. I knew it when I was five. I knew it when I was seventeen and about to go off to college, and spent an hour at a diner staring at a baby wondering why I had to do all this other stuff when all I wanted was that squirmy thing over there. (As a side note, I was really not ready to have a baby at seventeen, and I'm very glad I went to college and went through my 20's first. I would have missed out on a lot of life, and I wouldn't be as good a parent as I am now.)
My point is, I could have more kids. I mean, in my heart, I feel as though I could parent a couple more kids. Not at the moment. At the moment I'm having a hard time remembering what day it is and getting myself in and out of bed. But that's not what I'm talking about. I'm just saying that, at some point in the future, I might possibly decide I could be a parent again. But knowing what I know, I would have to give serious thought to how that child came to be mine.
There are so many options out there, people. There are children out there aching for homes. There are children out there who need temporary homes. If you're trying to fill a gap, there are other options. Especially for that second or third child.
So... this post is very long and convoluted, and I feel I must apologize for that, to some extent. I could sum up: People have many emotions when it comes to babies. It is every person's right to decide if he or she wants to become a parent, and both choices are OK. It is every couples's choice as to how many children they would like to have. It is also our responsibility as humans living and caring for this planet to take into account how our actions and indeed how our very presence affect it. Part of this is re-thinking how we perceive having children and what it means to be a parent.
In the meantime, I refuse to feel guilty about what we have already. I will not regret my children, not for any reason. Asking me to do that would be unfair and evoke all the kinds of emotions that would prevent meaningful discussion. So I will cherish each one of them and teach them what I know. And part of that is to be willing to think about difficult things.
