Beep-beep-beep-beep! (Repeat 10X).
This is the noise of my son’s manual alarm clock, disturbing me during my precious writing time. But then again, I desired this, because I wanted children. Am I wrong to feel conflicted just because an antinatalist put the idea into my head that having children is selfish?
I felt all sorts of wrong hearing that from a client—a woman who has decided to be childfree. She said, “No offense, but I can’t think of any non-selfish reasons why people would want kids.” My knee-jerk reaction was to be defensive, but her quip brought up questions in me that needed to be answered.
I brought it up with my dear husband of twenty years, with whom I have two kids, now both in their teens. I asked him, “Were we being selfish when we decided to have kids?” By the end of our discussion, we both agreed that we’re happy with our teenage kids growing up and the job we are doing so far as parents.
I am very inquisitive, and I am at a point in my life where I no longer try to silence my own voice. I give myself space and time for my needs. So, yes, I want to indulge my curiosity. I want to dig.
Incidentally—or not, YouTube’s algorithm nudged me toward a video featuring a person who is a firm believer that romantic love is an addiction. Being a lone wolf, she says, is the only way we can be truly free, without depending on other people for validation.
Antinatalism and this lone wolf concept will drive the human species to extinction, don’t you think? It feels very unnatural and smacks of nihilism.
I do not regret my child’s manual alarm clock disturbing me and my writing. I disturb them, they disturb me; I bother them, they bother me. I live with them, they live with me. We are family, and the friction will always be there. As a therapist who sees clients whose children have estranged themselves from their parents, I am mortified.
Days like these I ponder what the future holds for me.
Today, my eighteen-year-old son, accompanied by my husband, went to visit a prospective college (hence the alarm clock). He had to take an Ishihara test to see if he qualifies for an engineering program that requires normal color vision. We had a minor argument (of sorts) last night. He was under stress and trying to figure things out, and I attempted a conversation about how he felt. I tried my best to get through and connect. I did not 100% succeed.
This morning, before he left for the test, I talked to him about it and also clarified what I learned about waiting for him to speak rather than judging and giving advice immediately.
Living with an adult son means not falling into the trap of treating him like a child, but instead respecting him as a fellow, budding adult, with differences in opinion.
Incidentally, I was in therapy with a fellow mom-of-an-adult a few days ago, and she was at least ten years older than me. This opportunity to be her therapist showed me that we are all doing our best as parents, no matter what the initial reason was that we had for having children.
Perhaps the question of “Is it ethical or morally okay to have kids?” is the wrong question. Perhaps it is a misguided question, borne out of trauma experiences and the wish not to repeat the trauma or pass it on to the next generation.
The question also misses the concept of us having many selves. Our past selves can decide on something they thought was wise at that moment. We are always just trying our best as humans, as parents, and as sufferers of trauma.
Maybe too there is no question to be asked. Things just happen, phenomenologically. We have to trust ourselves in the moment of our reckoning and recognition of our desires and feelings, because feelings—all of them—are valid. The actions that follow the feelings are not always good or well thought out. Maybe what matters is how we deal with the moment, moment by moment, by being in the present and being in the now.
And so I apologized to my son this morning, but not totally. Just as I cannot apologize to him for deciding to give birth to him, to conceive him. The woman who decided to do that had valid feelings and thoughts and wishes. That version of Melany in her 20s. Apology means regret and invalidates the feelings and wishes that version of Melany had. I do not want to apologize for her feelings, but I, Melany Now, can take responsibility for the consequences and do my best to be a listening, good enough mom who, moment to moment, is present for her children and for herself.
Because if I am not present for myself and validate my needs, wants, and wishes, I am not a good model for them, and stomping down my Self (including in it my wants, feelings, wishes) is cruel. What’s more, it is unsustainable and potentially harmful to my children: what use is an overworked, drained, soul-hungry mother who takes out all her frustration on her children?
I will do my best every day to stand by me and my decision, that decision made so long ago with a past version of me. And at the same time, I am living ME in the present, a mom who is actually around to be the mom she strived to be in the past and the mom she wants to be remembered by her children in the future.
