The truth is, I don’t completely understand the idea of child rearing. At face value it seems like a lovely idea, a little baby to smell and hold and love and grow; a family of your own. I don’t think much thought goes into after that.
Call me a pessimist, and my husband does, but aside from the smell of sweet talcum powder drying on a baby’s bare bottom and the warm cuddles, having a child is a purely selfish act that man kind may have once done to build it’s population but now do to satisfy it’s own maternal needs to breed and / or complete it’s ideal lifestyle that society and previous generations have indoctrinated into it’s following generations.
I am guilty of the possible disabilities my child could be subjected to from birth, the cancer he could endure, the bully he may meet or become. I worry that despite our efforts he could become a drug addict, an alcoholic or murderer: that he may harm himself or others. All of this because my husband and I wanted to start a family, because our families before us did so and because my uterus ached with every tick and tock of my maternal clock.
I tossed and turned many nights before I became pregnant, wondering what kind of sane person would purposely run the gauntlet of putting another human at risk of what the world could possibly offer. After each argument with myself I would finally settle with the thought of soft cuddles, warm smells, tiny clothes, the chance at providing the world with a good human and of course love.
I am guilty of talking myself into having a baby for my own selfish reasons, hoping that they will out weigh the horrible possibilities that may steal my child from the glory that I hope for him.
It is my duty to keep my son safe, to raise him with awareness for both good and evil. It is my duty to pave a safe path that will guide him through life with the tools he needs to be the best person he can possibly be. I hope to raise a son that will benefit the world, a son who will raise more children with the best intentions. And already, I have assumed the creation of my sons’ future family.
The pattern continues.