A New Leaf

When Les and I went on our first real date over 5 and a half years ago, I told him that I did not want to have any children. I figured it was important to get that on the table right away, since I already really liked him (we corresponded via email for 3 months before meeting in person). I told him I was open to adoption at some point, but I had no desire to issue a human being from my body. I can't remember if he asked me why I felt that way, but he did say he was OK with it. He hadn't ever really pictured himself with kids, either, and his career prospects were tenuous and likely to involve a lot of cross-country moves. He didn't know if kids were a great fit for that life.

At some point, I know I told him WHY I didn't want to give birth. Reasons like reluctance to pass on my shitty, disease-prone genes, my general dislike for crying/sleeplessness/stretch marks/poop, the fact that I could not imagine being a mom without my mom in the world. The biggest reason, though, was that I imagined pregnancy as a 9 month-long panic attack. When I thought about being pregnant, I thought about cold sweats of worry drenching me in my sleep. I imagined fear, anxiety, paralysis, emotional overwhelm. And that was just BEFORE the kid actually came out. Then there would be a lifetime of fear and worry. Parenthood felt like walking into my own personal mine field of fear.

When I lost my first pregnancy, I screamed at God that I could not possibly make progress in giving up FEAR when the very things I feared the most kept happening to me. I was right, God, everything I love and long for will be ripped away from me. Everything will always be tragic. The miscarriage made me fear that Les wouldn't be far behind - clearly he was going to die, too. Or I would. Or one of my siblings. One by one, death would just keep picking off the people I loved most.

I still have moments of panic about this baby girl, or about Les. The other night we were watching "While You Were Sleeping" and I just could not stop crying. I forgot when we picked it from Netflix that Sandra Bullock's character's parents had both died. I lost it. I started sobbing, convinced that Les and I would die young and leave our baby an orphan. I felt a little sorry for myself, too, if I'm honest, remembering that weird one-sidedness of being parentless. All the "family" stuff will forever be Les's family. Anyway, the bottom line is that I still feel anxious about the rest of this pregnancy, and the birth, and being a mom. But overall, I can tell that God has done some pretty miraculous work in my heart since I proclaimed to Les on the bench at the Arboretum 5+ years ago that I would not be up for having kids.

Despite the flashes of fear, overall, I feel hopeful about this baby and about our family and about life as a mom. Sometimes, I actually feel excited about the next chapter. Even though a few things in our life are kind of a hot mess these days. Les is being crushed by his job. He is burned out to the point of physical illness and psychological anguish. We're not sure he can keep at it. But, unlike most industries, academia isn't really something you can just quit and expect to eventually find another job. If he quit now, before the end of the year, his academic career would be donezo. He would never get hired again. Even if he holds out until the end of this year, hiring has already finished up for next year, and that is assuming that the workload would be more reasonable at another school. He is seriously contemplating leaving academia all together and starting over with some kind of major career shift. Which should scare the crap out of me. It puts me in the position of having to support our family, bump my job up to full time, and figure out how to make our budget and life work on one income for the foreseeable future. It means the possibility that he may need to go back to school to be trained to do something other than teach and research. It means we may have to sell our house, move away, or take some other drastic measure. But I feel uncharacteristically calm about it. He can't keep on like he has, and our family needs what is best for Les, whatever that looks like.

I knew that major change has gripped me when I wrote Les a little note of encouragement this morning and taped it to the mirror. I reminded him that no matter what happens in his current job or future career, we (Auggie and baby girl and I) love him and have his back. We desire his flourishing above material stuff. And at the bottom, I scrawled:

No Fear of the Future.

And I meant it.

Somehow, thanks be to God, I meant it.

So we'll see what's next.