Mommy-Pity

C. and I have been arguing about having children (or, in my case, NOT having them) for about a week now. He, in typical male fashion, wants to 'pass on his name' (WTF about my name, hm?) or something equally stupid. I, wisely, am not in any rush to have my insides invaded by some alien who will then exit the same way it came in: certainly without any pleasure involved.

The reasons for not having a child are legion (the foremost being self-preservation and economic freedom), while there is only one logical reason to have one: "I want one". which is, for me, unimaginable.

One of my friends just had his first child, a son. I imagine they are proud and happy, and for them, I am proud and happy as well. But I imagine their marriage could handle it. Mine? Not so sure.

"We don't communicate now," I told C. on the way from church, where I spent a good half-hour pitying the woman next to me who was sitting alone with an infant girl. "How will we possibly communicate after the kid, when we have even LESS time together?"

[In an exasperated tone] "What do you mean, we don't talk? We're talking now!"

"We talk business. If there's something to be done, oh, we'll get it one. That's what we do."

"Well, isnt' that what marriage is? Providing for one another?"

I rest my case.

If we were opening up a bookstore, or even buying some real estate, I'd be all for it. Investments are easier to imagine than poopy diapers, no sex, no autonomy, sleepless nights, the abandonment of your friends, complete ignorance of what to do, your spouse cheating on you because "You aren't the person they married and give all your attention to the baby", no shopping, not reading any book without pictures, and a basic downward spiral at work.

I couldn't even concentrate in church today. Usually, I amuse myself people watching or writing in my journal (people think i'm taking notes on scripture), but we got there late today, and were seated next to a woman with an infant girl. The baby wasn't terribly cute, and sort of stared at you, like it knew you were uncomfortable, and jerked around wierdly in that uncontrolled way they have. It did not gurgle or coo, or anything, but I do think when it smiled at the person over the mother's shoulder, I think it was taking a shit in its diapers.

I tried not to look directly at the baby, for fear that her mother might take any viewing as affection and offer to let me hold her. Nevertheless, I was very struck with pity for her mother,who, while she looked okay on the surface, I was sure was a broiling mass of rage, lonliness, desperation, and exhaustion.

I had a million questions I wanted to ask:Where was her husband? she had a ring; don't any men actually take care of their children? Poor thing; she can't even carry a normal purse insted of that hideous huge pink diaper bag! Did those pantyhose hurt after having a kid? Is her husband cheating on her at this very moment with some non-preggo, younger, thinner chick? Bastard. HE should be here. What was that she was drinking? If it was formula, how can she afford to have such a nice suit? Maybe it's old or something. Moms don't buy new clothes, right? Until the old ones fall apart and then what they do buy is hopelessly out of date? And if she was feeding her breastmilk, how could she have time to hold down a job and let something suck at her? For how may promotions had she been passed over? How did it feel,knowing her life as an individual was over? That she would always be known as 'mommy' or "Mom", or "Buymethat, NOOOOOOOOWWWWW!"

It was overwhelming I could barely finish my budget.