The other morning, I fired up the computer over a very strong cup of coffee. Jet and Kimber were having their breakfast that my sleepy-eyed husband had made, and we were in that web of space we have each morning where we take a big breath, smile, and look at each other with full knowledge of what's ahead.
The only way I know how to describe that moment each morning is like being in the first seat of an enormous roller coaster as it climbs up toward the sky, getting ready for the ride. Click. Click. Click.
When we saw this article about parents being junkies...addicted to parenting...we both laughed out loud.
The article talks about the many parenting moments of frustration followed by a singular, magical moment of pure bliss. The author, Shankar Vedantam, makes a considerable argument about neurotransmitter release in the brain, comparing it to the junkie who wants their next hit of a drug. If nothing else, the article is definitely entertaining, and worthy of any parent's 3 minutes....between changing a diaper or helping with homework.
I offer another explanation to why we parents love parenting, even though every single study conducted has shown how much unhappier people who have children tend to be...
Gravity.
I look back on the life of both myself and my husband before we had children. Fun...absolutely. Carefree...without a doubt. Expendable income, limitless time, the ability to have a conversation, or a glass of wine, to sleep late, or jet off to a foreign country with our only worry being that of finding our passports. Happy?? That depends on how one defines happiness.
The first night we brought our son home, I had the most serious wake-up call of my life. At 2am, after hours of not sleeping, he was still screaming. Hearing the words of one of my coworkers floating around in my head, "If you've tried everything and nothing seems to work....Mylecon..." Bam! Sleeping baby.
Gravity...my world had forever changed.
We got married because we had a child. We went back to school because of our children. I study twice the material in half the amount of time because I've got kids. We've stayed together during the really tough times because of those little heartbeats. There's something about the cement of sharing DNA that makes us both try harder. It's not easy, its not always fun, but having both of our children gave us a purpose outside of our own selfish desires and forced us to focus...not just for our future, for theirs. It gave us purpose, it rearranged our priorities, it gave us perspective. It gives us another reason to climb onto a treadmill or watch our saturated fat intake.
We dream about what they're going to be like as adults. We can't wait until we show them Germany or Hawaii. Jason's planning on building a chopper with Jet. I open my mouth every time Kimber wants to look down my throat hoping its a sign of a future career choice. Our dreams and hopes aren't so much about us, but about them.
Make no mistake, we don't try and live through our kids, we incorporate everything about them. We also very much recognize that in 12 very short years, our first child will be 18, and we will be having each other to look at. Jason always says to me, "At the end of the day, you'd better like me...because one day it's gonna just be you and me again..." I'd be lying if I said we didn't savor date nights, and we avoid at all costs talking about laundry, bills, or the what the kids need to do while we're on dates. But, I'd also be lying if I said that our family days, the times when it's just the four of us at the park, or hiking, or on a vaction, aren't equally savored.
When I wanted to get pregnant with Kimber, it was not because I was so addicted that I just had to have another. It was because in my heart, I knew our family was not yet complete. Our family felt out of balance, and I knew how badly Jet needed a sibling. "The greatest gift you can ever give your child is a brother or sister...." that same friend told me when I was contemplating getting pregnant. Thank God I listened to her. For us, it was right to have another.
So, last night when my daughter had her first school program, and kept leaving the stage to come and get a hug from me during the middle of each song, did I have that burst of oxytocin? Absolutely. I let the tears flow as I watched her time and time again climb back on the stage, go to the piano and hit a key while the pianist was playing, then say "hello" into the microphone during the song. She didn't do a thing she was supposed to do, and did everything she wasn't supposed to be doing. It didn't make me want to have another child, it made me want to cherish the moment for exactly what it was. It was worth any sacrifice I'd made.
And then, this morning....there's that strong cup of coffee.
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