Entries for December

2nd December

“Will I have to hug our child?” I asked A yesterday.

She’d just come back from visiting a G.P., to announce the news that she was now pregnant, and wanted a hug from me – not the first time she’s had to ask for a cuddle, since I’m not especially good at spontaneously showing affection, and sometimes need to be prompted. And it was whilst giving her a cuddle that I asked the question above. I was mostly joking, and A duly laughed, but I also genuinely wonder sometimes if I’ll feel as affectionate towards this child as a father ought to be, especially considering my lifelong reluctance to have any children.

I’ve decided to keep a diary of my thoughts and feelings on this issue. It might help me get a few things straight in my mind. I might even consider putting my scribblings onto a blog on the Net – maybe others can relate to some of what I’m going through.


3rd December

One of the reasons for not wanting kids is my concern about bringing a child into a world that often seems to be deteriorating before my eyes in so many ways. With the re-election of the Howard government and the Bush administration, it seems like nothing will stop the continuing environmental decline, the increase in social inequity, the rise in materialism and greed and selfishness and xenophobia. (Though it does mean South Park and The Onion will never run out of material, so I guess every cloud has a silver lining…)

At work today I asked K – who’s the most socially aware and politically active person I know – how she felt about bringing a child into this world. She shared my concerns, and had long been reluctant to have any children. But her body had lately been betraying whatever she thought intellectually, feeling more of a yearning for children when she saw other people’s.

Then she confided to me that she’d had an abortion two weeks ago. It had been a shock for her and her partner to discover she was pregnant, but after much discussion and soul-searching they’d decided they just weren’t ready for children. She could feel how much her body resisted the idea of negating a life it was primed to nurture, so she fully understood how biological urges can override intellectual concerns.

And so it is with A, I suspect, now that she’s reached her mid-30s. She originally shared my reluctance to have children – we were both in agreement on that when we entered into our marriage – but her reasons differed a little. One of these was the painful upbringing she experienced in her own family. Her belief that the troubled relationships she experienced must be representative of most childhoods made her determined not to put another child through such an ordeal. Moreover, having largely been the primary caregiver for her younger brother – whilst her Italian-speaking parents worked full-time and relied on A. to conduct business for the family – meant she had already more-or-less raised a child, and didn’t fancy doing so again.

Only after having known my own family, and the calm, supportive, good-humoured environment my brother, sister and I had been raised in, has she started to feel otherwise. She now feels a child can be raised in a loving environment and, feeling her biological clock ticking, wants to give it a try before it’s too late.

The problem is, my own reservations about children haven’t really altered. Having given the idea of raising a child a lot of thought – both before and after giving A. my agreement to go ahead – I feel this diary might help me understand those concerns a little better, and maybe – hopefully – shift to a more optimistic, positive frame of mind.


5th December

A. and I had lunch at a restaurant for my mother’s birthday today. My parents and sister were there, along with my brother T, and his very pregnant (8 months) wife, L. Talk inevitably centered on pregnancy and birth issues: episiotomies, caesarians, neo-natal classes they’d been attending, baby equipment they’d been buying. I couldn’t help observing A’s interest in the conversation, but started to wonder if she’d eventually hiss under her breath, “Stop looking at me! Do you want them to suspect something?”

Though T & L announced L’s pregnancy as soon as they themselves knew, we’ve decided to wait until we’re past the first trimester (and into the ‘safe’ period) before saying anything, just in case anything unexpected should happen, or tests indicate a problem and difficult decisions need to be made.

My parents have long known of our reluctance to have children and, being pretty open-minded, had no problem with our decision. If they did secretly hanker for grandchildren, T & L were now fulfilling that need, so there was even less pressure on us.

A’s parents are more conservative, and would be expecting/hoping for us to have children, so we had simply never told them of our initial feelings on the issue, and they had politely refrained from bringing it up. Other friends and relatives had not been so tactful, however, and often made inquiries, joking and otherwise, about when we would be producing our first child (followed by the second, and the third…). We’d usually thought of something to say to fob them off, though now I guess we’ll be fulfilling their expectations after all…


6th December

I noticed letters in the Age today responding to an opinion piece about how rude and unfriendly people in Melbourne seemed to be towards parents and young children in public venues. The respondents castigated the author for expecting people to cheerfully put up with noisy, ill-mannered kids, and I had to agree with them. A and I have occasionally criticized the poor parental skills of others that let children misbehave in public, certain we would do a better job. Of course, I never wanted to have to prove I could, and now I’m wondering if I’ll be able to do much better…

************************

A’s re-reading her Sheila Kitzinger book on pregnancy and childbirth. Should I hurry up and read the book for prospective fathers that she bought for me?


7th December

She beat me to it. When I walked into the bedroom a minute ago she was reading So You’re Going To Be A Dad – and she’s not even going to be one!


8th December

A had her first visit to an obstetrician today.

“How was it?” I asked.
“Yeah, it was okay.”
“Did he have to look at your ‘bits’?”
She paused. “It’s a girl.”
“Really?! That’s great!” I said excitedly. “Can they tell this early?”
“The obstetrician’s a girl.”
“Oh.”

For a moment I’d been a little enthusiastic about A’s pregnancy, for the very first time as far as I could tell. And it reminded me of my trip to the therapist late last year….

When A announced to me last year that she’d had a change of heart about having children, I was disappointed to say the least. We talked about it at length, with me finally acknowledging that A couldn’t help the way she felt about this. She explained that she would abide by my wish not to have children if I stuck to my guns, but she would probably feel periodically depressed for a long time.

Trying to accept that this was her being honest rather than trying to emotionally blackmail me, I agreed to accompany her to a counsellor recommended by our G.P. She was a nice woman – a South African with a sizeable family of her own - and she listened to my arguments for not wanting children, but I couldn’t help feeling that she sided very much with A during our meeting, suggesting I was just a typically scared husband with normal fears, rather than acknowledging my genuine reasons for not wanting children.

When we exited the meeting, A confirmed my impression – even she was surprised how much the counsellor had supported her decision for children and played down (or even dismissed) all my concerns. Though to give the woman her credit, she contacted us later, wanting to know if she’d been at all helpful. I told her frankly (though politely) that she hadn’t appeared quite as objective as we’d hoped, and she admitted that in cases like ours one had to sway the couple one way or the other, otherwise a resolution would never be reached and we might end up having to break up.

Well, I definitely didn’t want that to happen. So after a lot more contemplation, plus a lengthy phone conversation with someone at a men’s counselling service helpline (who pretty much confirmed that A and I were in a bugger of a situation, but couldn’t really offer any advice), I decided to speak to a therapist by myself.

Choosing one from the Yellow Pages, I made an appointment and went to see him one morning in the city. I had written out a detailed list of the issues I wanted to discuss, and we talked for a long time about my concerns – longer than the allotted hour. He ended up telling me more about his own family life than he said he’s revealed to any other client.

In the end what made me decide to go ahead, as much as anything else, was my fear that by not having a child, I’d miss out on something – an experience – that I might regret denying myself (not to mention denying my wife!). I’ve long felt that I wanted to experience certain things before I got too old, and had gone ahead and done them – adventure sports such as skydiving, white-water rafting, caving, scuba-diving, etc. as well as travels across Europe, America, Canada and New Zealand. And though my life would almost certainly be more stress-free and simpler without children, maybe this is something I need to add to my storehouse of experiences – and perhaps to grow as an individual.

This last point was highlighted by the therapist. He said men experience a deeper level of love and commitment when a child comes into their life. He suggested they progress to a new stage of maturity in their emotional (and spiritual) lives. So why would I want to miss out on that?

And A did say she’d do all the nappy changing.

**********************************************

The last thing I asked the therapist was whether it was wrong for me to prefer a daughter to a son. He asked the reason why, so I explained that I frequently doubt whether I’d provide as good a role model for a boy as other fathers – I have zero interest in sports and cars, and I’m far from being a handyman (A ends up tackling fix-up jobs around the house more than me). I just feel that A would have more to share with a daughter than I would with a son, who would inevitably compare me to the other fathers he would come to know, and find me lacking.

The therapist tried to assure me that children are very open and accepting of whatever their parents are like, and we left it at that.

**************************************

By the way, the due date for our child, according to A’s obstetrician, is apparently 7th August.


9th December

A and I agree that if we’re not happy with the kid we’ll take him ‘back to the pound’.

********************************

A was too tired for any nookie this evening, and warned that this tiredness might occur frequently over the next eight weeks. Could I possibly manage to find some entertainment by myself?

Well, sure. Isn’t that why the Internet was created?


11th December

This morning A threw away the lilies I’d given her the day after she told me she was pregnant. I’d bought the flowers not so much to celebrate her news, but out of a sense of guilt about not responding enthusiastically when she told me. She’d said:

A: “You know when I got out of bed early this morning?”
Me: “Yes.”
A: “I was doing my ‘test’.”
Me: “Riiiight.”
A: “And it came up positive.”
Me: “And that means….?”
A: “I’m pregnant.”
Me: “Oh. Well, that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? I mean, us. What we wanted. Isn’t it?”

(Following this, A. proceeded to fish the pregnancy indicator from the rubbish bin, to show me where it had turned pink. I suggested she might want to save it for our baby’s scrapbook, but she said that was a silly idea…)

She confessed to me later that she was afraid I might be disappointed by her news, so I guess my ambivalence couldn’t have been too obvious.

*******************************

A’s concerned, when we announce our news to my parents, that it will look like we’re trying to copy parents-to-be T & L. So she wants us to stress to my parents that we decided to try for children after coming back from our overseas trip last year.

Heaven forbid we should appear to be copycats….


12th December

Today A and I somehow got onto the subject of twins, triplets, etc, which we’re both kind of dreading, given they’d be much more of a handful than the hoped-for single child. Yet I conceded that they were a definite possibility given how fertile I am (not that I’ve been tested or anything – a man just knows…). A pointed out the ego-crushing fact that it’s the woman’s eggs that determine such births, not the man’s sperm – and at her current age there was a higher likelihood of this happening. (Maybe I should start reading those pregnancy books – I’m not sure I like A having the upper hand in this knowledge-about-pregnancy business. But there are so many more interesting things to read…)

I tentatively suggested we might have to do something if it turned out she was carrying three or more. A then told me about a woman carrying eight children, who defied a doctor’s recommendation to abort some of them, and they all died. Then she told me her own small body couldn’t carry three or more, so she’d have to consider taking action.

And I felt both relieved by her response, and a little guilty that I could even suggest these sorts of things….


13th December

A complained about headaches she’s been getting lately, so I went on the Net to see if they were one of the symptoms of pregnancy. Turns out they are, for some women during the 1st trimester. But there are so many other symptoms listed for the different stages of pregnancy, including tiredness, heartburn, high blood pressure, fluid retention, cramps, and a multitude of others (probably uncontrollable flatulence and chronic snoring, with my luck). I wonder if she knows what she’s in for?


14th December

Happened to speak to both R (a work colleague) and my brother about how to raise a child where God and religion are concerned. R and her husband want to impart spiritual/humanistic values, without bringing their kid up religiously, though they’re prepared to encourage a belief in God in the early years if it’s simpler and more comforting. My brother refuses to raise his child religiously, letting him understand there is a God, but not necessarily the God of one particular religion. He wouldn’t have the child baptised – “that’s hypocritical” – whereas A does want our child baptised (she admits she’s “superstitious”) and would consider sending our child to a Catholic school.

**************************************

Also, A said she thought it would be good to tell our parents about the pregnancy sometime after her first ultrasound (perhaps on Boxing Day?), but asking them to keep it a secret. This way, should we encounter any problems in this early period, at least we’ll have some support.


16th December

Sometimes I picture my future self as one of those fathers from the fifties, pipe in mouth, reading the newspaper, who has little to do with the children and mostly leaves it up to the wife. And sometimes I think it would be advantageous for me not to be too emotionally involved with any child (or children) we might have, simply because it would make disciplining them a lot easier. Whether it’s doing the whole ‘controlled crying’ thing when they’re young, denying them junk food when they’re insisting on it, or setting boundaries for them as teenagers, all of this would surely be easier if I’m not too attached or too concerned about what they might think of me.

Then I think, why on earth have children if you’re not going to feel strongly about their welfare, and about them as human beings? And I hope my feelings about this start to change….

*****************************************

This issue of not feeling too emotionally attached to someone ties in, I think, to what happened to my sister K. She and I had a better relationship than most siblings we hear about, and we not only had a lot of interests in common – passionate about the same TV shows and movies, enthusiastically reading the same books – but we also moved out of home together and shared a unit for almost eight years. We rarely fought, logically divided up the household chores, supported each other through hard times, and basically got on as well as a brother and sister could ever hope to get on. The fact is, until I met A there was no-one I was closer to.

Then, as she was returning from a holiday on the coast with her boyfriend, she was involved in a horrific car accident – the doctor who attended the scene said it was one of the worst he’d ever seen. K’s boyfriend was killed, and she was left in a coma, with severe head injuries and a prognosis about as dire as anyone could possibly imagine.

K eventually, gradually, emerged from the coma some months later and began a painstaking rehabilitation that, despite exceeding all the doctor’s predictions, still has left her to cope with a variety of physical and mental handicaps.

But I think her accident changed me as well. As she lay in the hospital, I was grief-stricken to know that the person I was closest to in the world was either going to die, or most likely be left a vegetable. And I think my psyche decided it never wanted to go through that again. So, much as I treasure my lovely wife, and would be lost without her (as would the rest of my family, I suspect), I sometimes wonder if I’m as close to her as a husband ought to be. I wonder if perhaps my mind feels it can avoid feeling that same degree of loss and grief if it doesn’t commit itself too deeply to anyone else.

And if I can’t make that emotional commitment to my own wife, what chance is there of it being made towards our child?


17th December

Today A went to the obstetrician for an ultrasound, to confirm the existence of an embryo – which wasn’t yet 100% certain – and an early assessment of its health. She rang me at lunchtime
to say there definitely was an embryo there, it looked to be in the right position, and evidence indicated that she had ovulated twice (meaning two embryos had been produced), but only one embryo had been successful. Though she said that was obviously a relief for both of us, I wondered if I detected a wistful note in her voice, as if she was wondering, “What if…?”

Anyway, she excitedly told me she had an ultra-sound photo of the ‘blob’, if I wanted to see it. No doubt she’ll want to stick that in a baby journal, but she pooh-poohed my idea of putting in a (slightly urine-soaked) pregnancy indicator!

*********************************

Yep, just saw the ultrasound printout, and it’s a blob all right. Also, A suggested I might like to accompany her to the next ultrasound – I think she feels it may help to start bonding me with the Unborn Kid, or at least get me more used to the idea that it’s on its way….


18th December

A weekly ritual for me is seeing a film on Saturday morning, when it’s quiet in the cinema, with hardly anyone to distract me from the movie. (A only accompanies me some of the time, if it’s a film she wants to see and she wouldn’t prefer sleeping in.) Today I watched Lemony Snicket’s A Series of Unfortunate Events, which I loved. I walked out thinking, if I had a child, that’s the sort of film I’d take him or her to see.

Then I think about all the expensive foodstuffs I’ll have to buy from the Candy Bar, being asked questions when I’m trying to watch the movie, and having to take him or her out to the toilet before it’s finished, and suddenly it doesn’t seem quite so appealing.

I guess this is a prime example of the sort of selfishness I’ll need to change if I’m to have a child. But I think it’s going to be frustrating for me to try to alter habits and rituals I’ve comfortably settled into over so many years.

This film-going ritual is important to me – I love to lose myself in the cinema-going experience (it may be telling that I get more emotional during many movies than I do over almost anything that happens in ‘real’ life), and afterwards I’m usually happy to help A in anything she wants to do, places to go, or people to see, for the rest of the weekend. I’ve expressed my concern to A about how a child would impact on my freedom to do these sorts of things – the films, or sitting down to read a bit before dinner, or mucking around on the internet, or going to record/comic fairs and book sales – and A is insistent that she would attempt to minimise any disruption to my life that a child would cause. I feel a little guilty to hear her say this, because she already does so much for me in terms of keeping the place clean - washing, vacuuming, dusting etc (all I regularly do is the ironing) – as well as preparing most of our meals (I prepare a meal maybe once a week – something simple like spaghetti bolognaise or chop suey). Like the classic image of an Italian wife, she really does work hard to look after the whole house, and asks very little of me.

So when she promises to try to ensure that my lifestyle is compromised as little as possible by a child – because this is her ‘project’ more than mine, so that she will do all the dirty work that I’d prefer not to do – how can I not feel a little guilty? I mean, she already has to undergo nine months of increasing discomfort, culminating in hours of agonising labour, for the sake of her ‘project’.

Maybe I should start giving her a bit more of a hand around the place….

************************************

After the film I happened to find a second-hand copy of Kaz Cooke’s Up the Duff, which I bought for A. She started reading it that night in bed. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her be such an avid reader as she has been with these books on pregnancy. Another reason for me to feel guilty, because I just keep reading stuff from my comic collection….


20th December

Was intimate with A last night. However, due to a certain sensitivity she was experiencing, she warned me against manhandling her upper region.

So there’s that particular pleasure taken away from me. Thanks very much, Unborn Kid!



21 December

A has been having increasing periods of nausea at her job, but if it affects her work she has to tell her co-workers that she’s just got a headache, since she doesn’t yet want them to know about her condition.

But she thinks they’re starting to suspect something….

******************************

Started reading Peter Downey’s book on fatherhood last night, and continued this evening. It’s very readable, often funny, but it confirms all the things that I’ve feared about how much my comfortable life is going to change…


24th December

Since it’s Christmas, I thought I’d be charitable to myself in recognising some of the reasons A probably thinks I’d make a good father or role model for a child: I don’t smoke, I rarely drink alcohol, I’m not keen on gambling, I have a healthy diet (apart from my chocolate addiction), I keep reasonably fit, I don’t spend a lot of time out of the house with my ‘mates’, and I have literary interests and a certain creativity that she’d probably like to see imparted to our child.

Also, like A, I’m pretty even-tempered. In fact, A and I have never had a serious argument, which may be as much due to our compatibility and respect for each other as it is to our patience and easy-going natures.

But part of the reason I find I can be patient with others is because I can think logically and reason with other people. Unfortunately, in my experience, you can’t do that with babies and young children. I already find dealing with A’s young nephew and nieces a chore, and I only see them maybe once a month for a few hours. The thought of dealing with willful, unreasonable, illogical kids full-time makes me wonder how quickly, and frequently, I’ll be seeing my patience stretched to the breaking point.


25th December

Christmas Day. Yesterday we had dinner at A’s parents’ place (A had spent most of the day there, helping to prepare it), then went to my parents’ place to accompany my mother to Midnight Mass. Then, sticking to the peculiar tradition of my family, we came home from church to have breakfast (mostly bread rolls and deli meats), then sat around the Christmas tree to open the presents that my father handed to each of us. Then we left my parents’ place at 2.45 and were in bed at home by 3.30.

Today we’re just spending a lazy Christmas day at home, sleeping in late, then watching T.V. and going through our presents. I seriously wonder if we’ll want to keep the Midnight Mass / 1.30 a.m. breakfast tradition alive for our own child. I suspect it’ll fade away when my parents get too old for it themselves.

From A I asked for (and received) an electronic keyboard. I’ve always wanted to learn music, plus record my own compositions on the computer. And both of us are hoping our child will be interested in learning an instrument, so this keyboard may be a head-start for him/her…

Of course, whether I’ll have time myself to practice on it once the baby comes along is quite another thing…


26th December

Visited both sets of parents today, and gave them the news. The reaction of A’s parents was a little understated.

A (shortly after we arrived): “For Christmas I got a DVD, a CD…and a baby.”
A’s mother: “A baby? Oh, congratulations.” (Followed by a hug.)

A assures me they were excited and very happy for us – their enthusiasm is just a little more subtle than most people’s.

My own parents, whom we saw later that day, were a little more overwhelmed (perhaps partly because they’d already been convinced we weren’t going to have any children). My mother burst into tears and wouldn’t stop hugging A, and even my dad had a bit of a tear in his eye as he congratulated us. We then had to explain why we’d changed our minds, and my dad assured us we wouldn’t regret it. (He’d apparently once said to my mother, “I wonder if they realise what they’re missing out on?”)

My mother noted privately to me later that I seemed a bit ‘half-hearted’ about it all. Whilst acknowledging the heartache children can bring (and indicating my sister), she too tried to assure me that when I held that child in my hands, a child A and I had made together, I would feel differently.

Well, I hope so. But I imagine there are as lot of exceptions to the rule, so how can I be certain I won’t be one of them?

****************************************************

One of the symptoms of pregnancy can be vagueness, and I think A can add that to her own personal list. Since she’s usually got a better memory than me, it’s amusing when I have to remind her of things. But it’s a lot more of a concern when she not only forgets to pay our rent, but also, when we get to her parents place, she forgets to put the car into Park or put the handbrake on. (We didn’t roll back very far before I pointed this out…)


28th December

Prior to A announcing her change of heart about children, I had been becoming increasingly interested in the experiences of others who lived a child-free lifestyle. I’d surfed the Net to peruse the web sites of those advocating this lifestyle, and bought the book Child-Free Zone by Australian authors David and Susan Moore (whom I’d originally read about in an Age article). The arguments they put forward to justify not having children, and to counter the pro-children arguments of friends and family, were ones I was practically committing to memory, should I ever be placed in the position of having to justify our stance. Not that anyone (apart from my open-minded parents) was yet aware of our intentions. Since it wasn’t really anyone else’s business, we’d decided to say nothing to them, and would perhaps only reveal our intentions if pressed on the issue by persistent family members – to shut them up – but it had not yet come to that.

A was quick to read Child-Free Zone, but confessed that most of the arguments people gave for preferring a child-free lifestyle were not necessarily ones she shared. Perhaps I should have suspected something at that point. Especially considering her argument - that she did not want to raise a child and let it endure the miserable upbringing she experienced - was not one the other couples seemed to share (for obviously, if you’re aware of the wrong way to raise a child, you can do a lot to avoid making the same mistakes with your own children).

Anyway, we kept that book out of sight so it wouldn’t provoke unwanted discussion with guests, and now I’m not even sure I want to look through it again. I really don’t want to be reminded of the valid reasons for not having children when it’s now no longer an option for us. I think I should probably delete all my browser bookmarks for child-free websites as well.

In fact, I’m not sure I’d want any child of mine finding my child-free literature when they’re old enough to comprehend its significance. But then, I don’t think I’d want them to read this diary of mine, but I still keep writing it….

Also, when I ordered David and Susan’s book, they sent me a complimentary bumper sticker. Just as well I didn’t stick it on the car, or pretty soon I’d be looking really hypocritical. Though to be honest, it was a pretty boring sticker – just a picture of a baby in a ‘no-smoking’ style circle with a line through it (which might’ve translated as: “Baby not on board - therefore it’s okay to hit my car”). I was thinking more along the lines of: “Do it for recreation, no procreation.” Something like that….


30th December

During the week off work I’ve been reading recent back issues of Adbusters, the Canadian magazine that looks at the unethical and environmentally unsound behaviour of corporations and governments, and the work of activists who are fighting back - but it’s so depressing. I first read an Adbusters magazine in the early 90s, and since then it appears that hardly anything has improved - social and environmental conditions have generally become worse. And it really makes me fear for the sort of world my child will inhabit.

I’ve spoken to K at work about this – about the fact that the next generation will live in a world with far fewer animals and forests, scarcer natural resources, more extreme climatic conditions, more conflicts between the rich and the poor, more insidious advertising – the list goes on. And even though, as a pop culture junkie, I’m excited that there will always be great movies, TV shows, music, comics and books to look forward to, as well as ever-evolving technological marvels to entertain and assist us, I wonder if that really makes up for what we’ll be losing.

K and I agreed that children are very adaptable, and most of these changes will happen so gradually that we’ll simply accommodate then within our lives as ‘normal’ (in the same way, I suspect, that Australians have become desensitized to the idea of asylum seekers being locked up indefinitely in detention centers). But I can’t help thinking that my child is going to constantly hear me saying, “Back in my day….” and “When I was your age….”