Q. Hi Jordan!
My husband and I always thought we weren’t the “kids” type, but lately that has really changed. And now we’re just sort of struggling with the “when.”
Has it been totally worth it, the “not being able to do whatever you want whenever you want to” portion? My husband and I have been married for so long now and have our own groove, and I’m super worried I’m going to end up resenting a kid for messing with my blissfully carefree life. No more indie shows in crowded bars with 10 minutes notice; that sort of thing.
In short: how did you guys know you were ready? Did you struggle with the things that you’d have to give up, or were you totally on board?
A. This is an excellent question, and I know exactly where you’re coming from.
Let me tell you about what happened the other night.
I went to an event in the city that ran several hours beyond my usual curfew – I usually try to get home by six so that I can make my son dinner, give him his bath, and spend a little time together before he heads off to bed. The event was at a very, very cool bar in Chelsea – unmarked door with a doorbell, cocktails with things like roses and dill in them…you get the picture. The other people who were attending the event were mostly in their early to mid-twenties, and every single person I talked to very clearly considered this event their first stop at the beginning of a very long night.
Four years ago, this kind of place would have been right up my alley. In fact, I’d spent plenty of post-midnight hours in my pre-baby life at that very bar, and even almost gotten kicked out of it once (we won’t go into that). And besides, I knew plenty of people there at least in passing, and had a decent amount in common with them: at the very least, we all work in more or less the same industry. And lots of the other girls were wearing hats. I like hats. We could have talked about hats.
And yet.
I cannot tell you the depth to which I felt like an alien at that party. Even though I knew that nobody there was particularly interested in hearing stories about my child (or any child)…I honestly couldn’t think of anything else to talk about when the conversation turned in my direction. I showed off pictures, knowing full-well that nobody really wanted to see them. I talked about breast-feeding, of all things (I know; I couldn’t stop myself; all I can say is that it seemed like a funny story at the time because these are the kinds of things that I think are funny now). And when I thought about this on the way home – what was I doing? – I realized that it’s just that my reality now is about bathtimes and lullabies and teaching my son how to say the word “persnickety”…
And I love it so much that I’m not especially interested in pretending that it’s anything else. (I could maybe skip the breast-feeding part of the conversation next time I find myself out with a bunch of twenty-year-olds, but hey: lesson learned.) The thing is, all those things you “have” to do when you have a baby? You end up wanting to do them, more than anything. I promise. And the things that will occupy your days and your mind may not be the things that used to…but they’ll be lovelier than anything you ever thought possible.
Before I had a child, you know, I was extremely committed to this idea that it wouldn’t “change” me: I’d keep going out to restaurants, parties, concerts, wherever…he’d just come along with us! We’d be all chill and easygoing and awesome and like the Jolie-Pitts.
We are not like that. I schedule my days around my son’s nap because having a rested toddler makes our afternoons so much better; I make dinner plans that go no later than 6:30PM; we head to the movies to see Free Bird (which was terrible, by the way) instead of Dallas Buyers Club. Life is completely different, and all those things that I worried would happen?
They happened.
And I don’t care. It’s more than that: I don’t only “not care”…I wouldn’t change one single thing.
So yes, before my son was born I did worry that I’d be resentful, that I’d miss all those late-night dinners and movies and drinks with friends. And sure, those things were fun…but this is better. By so far I can’t even compare it. I can’t explain it other than to say that there is no one on the planet – no one, not even close – with whom I would rather spend time than my son, no one who is a more fascinating conversationalist (albeit with a somewhat limited vocabulary), no one who makes me laugh more, no one with whom I’m happier just sitting in silence, watching the world. It is important to me to sneak away once in awhile to do those kinds of things that we “used” to do, absolutely, but when I’m out doing them I always, always, always wish I was back home in front of Toy Story with a little blonde head resting on my shoulder.
As for “when” is the right time? It’s true, what they say: there isn’t one. There will always be things that you “could” or “should” wait for, but chances are that you’re never going to feel 100% ready. We didn’t have a big apartment (or even a bedroom door), tons of money, or even especially stable careers at the time our son was born, and we didn’t know the first thing about how to raise a child…but somehow everything worked out anyway. Yeah, you should have things like health insurance in place…but as for the rest of it? It’s okay to not be sure. It’s a huge change, and it makes sense to feel some degree of uncertainty.
And the truth is: all that stuff you don’t think you’ll ever be able to figure out? You’ll figure it out.
Trust me: if I could, anyone can.
