Friday, March 25, 2011

You want one, don't you?

Newborn babies are contagious. That is a scientific fact, trust me. I've been around enough pregnant women to know. I've already mentioned that I am the second of nine kids and although I was not one to play with Barbies and dolls very often, whenever I got a hankering to play with the dollhouse with my sisters, the scenario ran as follows: The mommy Barbie already has 2 or 3 kids (depending on how many dolls we could find) and then suddenly, she begins acting...strange. Craving pickles and peanut butter, unpredictable mood swings, forgetfulness, the works. At first the kids wonder, but soon they catch on--mommy must be pregnant, again.

I am not a mother, but out of necessity, I became sort of an expert in baby care at a very early age. I could fix a perfect bottle by age 7 and I knew just how to check the temp on my little wrist. All of my siblings were baby food connoisseurs--we had so many jars of it around, sometimes we would eat the good ones for snack. Smashed peaches and bananas are actually quite tasty. And the diapers. Cloth diapers. Cloth diapers fastened with diaper pins. Picture an elementary school kid folding and pinning a diaper on a squirming baby. And I don't recall ever poking any of my little siblings. Of course cloth diapers must be rinsed and soaked before (thankfully) sent off to diaper service for the final sterilization. I was volunteering in the church nursery and babysitting other people's infants and toddlers by the time I was 10. Singing babies to sleep? Check. Settling crying babies in the middle of the night? Check. Feeding, dressing, packing a baby bag just right? Check. When I was a teen, one of my little sisters would scream at the top of her lungs whenever we took her to nursery so those of us older kids would alternate bringing her to Sunday School with us. You can imagine the looks I got from strangers as I sat there burping a baby. It was the same in college with my baby brother. And the same just after I graduated from college with my baby sister.

Do I resent any of my child care experience? Not at all! I love children. But, I do know just how much work a child can be. While my high school friends gushed over wanting 12 kids I couldn't help but shake my head. Girls, you know not what you ask for. I volunteer in my church nursery and whenever diaper changing time rolls around, whomever happens to be volunteering with me says "Well, you're getting some good experience!" I have to laugh. Recently, as everyone stands around admiring the latest newborn, the question inevitably pops up. Some variation of "Doesn't this make you want one?" No, no it doesn't. People always look a bit surprised at my reply, probably because it comes with no hesitation or blushing smile. Please don't think me strange or abnormal or somehow less of a woman.

Someday, I would like to have children of my own. However, I am in no particular hurry. You see, I need time to be me. I went off to school at 17, graduated four years later, came home to a house with small children, work part-time, moved out with two of my sisters and went back to school. I just bought my first car two weeks ago. I have never made more than $800 dollars a month. I don't know what it's like to be truly independent. Please people, let me get a job as a nurse, live where I want to, learn to kickbox because I want to, go to art galleries, and plays and concerts, travel around, make new friends, sleep in on Saturdays, pierce my ears a third time and update my tattoo, meet a great guy, fall in love, get married, and enjoy couplehood. Then I'll have the baby others are so eager to wish upon me.

In case you're wondering, I don't want nine kids. I know myself and three is a good number. I'd love for one of my future children to be a little boy or girl I adopt. The decision to bring another human being into this world is huge and I don't want to approach the idea with rose colored lenses. Too many people have children and cannot--or will not--care for them properly. Babies are not toys or accessories or pets or worthless objects. They are helpless people who rely on responsible adults to provide them with love and care. At 25, I feel like my life as a real adult is just beginning. I am doing the kids I will someday have a big favor by getting my act together first.