Sometimes well-meaning people try to compliment my mother after they've witnessed one of my brother's bad days: "Wow, you are so good to raise a son like that," they say, "I don't know what I would have done." They act as if my mom had a choice in the matter, as if she could have sent my brother back when she found out he was
classically autistic, as if she is some kind of saint for caring for her child, as if (nonexistent) perfect children were the only children worth loving.
A recent discussion on Feminist Mormon Housewives made me feel the same kind of unease. EmilyS wrote about her pathological fear of motherhood. She brings up a lot of good points: she is worried about her career, her health, her relationship with her husband, her (imagined) unworthiness. Even though it was the last reason she listed, I think her deep fear that she will be a horrible mother is the real reason she doesn't want children. It's sad that she has such a low opinion of her mothering abilities even though she has succeeding in so many other realms.
Some of the responses were more disturbing. One woman wrote that she fears having children because, besides losing her freedom and her income, having a child might mean
investing so much time / energy / love / sacrifice in a little person who ends up being a disaster . . . or maybe just someone who I don’t really “gel” with all that much. (I wish that we could “date” a prospective child in the same way that we can date a prospective spouse, instead of just taking the child that arrives.)
Obviously, this woman should
not have children. A few other women said basically the same thing, though: they are afraid of having a bad child, a child they won't like very much. I can't believe people think that parenting is supposed to be easy or self-fulfilling or whatever. Parenting is practicing charity—absolutely unconditional love without any hope of return—like our Heavenly Father's charity. Even if we do the very best we can, our children can end up retarded, or worse, wicked. We have to accept that possibility and still love them.
Do people really have children and then feel disappointed because the children aren't like the children they wanted? Do people really think they will get something out of parenting besides learning to give of themselves unconditionally? Does this really happen?
Another of my illusions about the world suffered a big hit tonight as I read through the responses to EmilyS's post. I thought people knew that children are hard and that raising them is not rewarding at all. I thought people were okay with that.
Even though I
know I will absolutely suck at some aspects of motherhood—like remembering dental appointments, tolerating tantrums, living without sleep, pretending I care about macaroni necklaces, and keeping the house clean—I am still ready to try it someday, when I'm married and stuff. Yes, because I'm supposed to. Also, because I cannot imagine going my entire life (okay, my entire life until my parents can't take care of my brother anymore) focusing on myself. I'd go nuts or cold or something. "Challenge" also happens to be my middle name.
