Nightstand Confessional

Here's what's on my nightstand these days.

Yep, you're squinting at those titles correctly. Three parenting books and a dog-parenting book. Looks like there is some nesting on my mind.

There are a lot of things on my mind.

Christmas makes me ache for my parents in a way I cannot even write. But in the last year or so, it also makes me ache for a family of our own. From the look of this reading list, I'm about 25% convinced that dog guardianship will suffice.

Over the past couple of days, I've joined a corporate ache and groaning for the parents in Connecticut who lost their babies to a gunman on Friday. I've cried. I've reconsidered. I've started to let the fear of evil, of death, of tragedy and heartbreak poke big holes in my heart. I've clenched my jaw and asked myself "Is it really better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? What about if it is your baby? What then?" I've let myself wonder. Waffle. Think about the RISK of loving someone that much, and then losing them. The pessimistic fringes of my heart whisper "The risk is too big. Don't put yourself through it."

It can be tempting to believe the whispers.

If I actually had children, would these mind-boggling horrors rock me in a way I can't even imagine now? I think they would. They would have to. Before we adopted Auggie, I would feel angry and sad if I heard about animal abuse, or caught a glimpse of a photo or video of a puppy mill or dog fighting ring. But now that a piece of my heart is waggling around on 4 legs, I actually weep over stories or photos or (gulp) videos of animal abuse. It is much more visceral, personal, and unimaginable to me now that I love that little critter so much.

At the end of the day, I know that Love drives out Fear. And I know that I would not actually decide to give up on our family-planning conversations out of fear. But I'm also reeling from all the thoughts and feelings and  waves of grief that are already pounding at me at the very TALK of starting a family. I cannot imagine having (or adopting) a child that my parents will never know. I cannot imagine not being able to call my mom and talk with her about my questions. I feel paralyzed when I think about my (maybe, future) children never knowing my parents, never hearing their grandma sing them to sleep with her beautiful alto voice, never laughing with their grandpa or snuggling into his chest. I feel angry, and cheated, and all kinds of sad.

So I bought some books.

Parentless Parents  - How the Loss of Our Mothers and Fathers Impacts the Way We Raise Our Children
Motherless Mothers - How Losing a Mother Shapes the Parent You Become
Always Too Soon - Voices of Support to Those Who Have Lost Both Parents

I haven't even cracked the spines yet. They still feel too scary. Too real. But I've read the back covers, and I fully intend to read them. Just as soon as I finish the most relevant title on the list:

The Other End of the Leash - Why We Do What We Do Around Dogs

We need some parenting tips to help us with our FurSon.

Maybe if we can make some noticeable progress around not @#$%ing up with our dog, we can start seriously talking about creating or bringing a human child into our family. I will not hold my breath. Neither should you.

But I have books, and for me, that is the first step towards anything substantial.