The Gift of Children (Revisited) in Daydreaming on the Porch
- Dec. 27, 2021, 8:39 p.m.
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- Public
This Christmas season has been especially difficult for me. I lost my mother two years ago after taking care of her for ten years when she had dementia. Last Christmas was, as expected, strange and empty without her, the first Christmas in 69 years when she wasn’t a joyful presence in our lives. The isolation of the pandemic also made things more lonely.
This year however, I expected to have an easier time of it. I did not. I tried to get in the Christmas spirit, putting a wreath on the door and decorating the den with a small tree and Lighted Christmas village. And it helped, but nothing could take away the pain completely. I did have a very nice, cozy day on Christmas at my brother’s house. He and his lady friend fixed a huge dinner, we opened presents, and sipped wine while Chloe the cat slept peacefully in my lap. So I’m immensely grateful I had that.
But then there were all the photos I saw online and texted to me of friends with their families, relatives and grandchildren, all gathering this Christmas in defiance of the rapid spread of the new coronavirus variant. This was supposed to be a return to a more normal Christmas. Instead, there was more uncertainty, worry and anguish even as most of us tried to go about life with some semblance of normalcy.
Not having children has always hits me hard around Christmas time. So I was overjoyed this morning to learn that my niece had delivered a healthy 8 lb, 7 oz baby boy. We are so happy for them.
But again, these types of joyful events are not completely happy for me. Another reminder of that large, though certainly not unfillable, void in my life. I share in my niece and her happiness as I sit alone on my big sofa typing text greetings and marveling at the wonder of new life in the photos they have sent me.
Twenty-two years ago, when I was a mere 48, I wrote the following piece, which gets to the heart of what I’m trying to convey here. It’s been a long time since I’ve witnessed a baptism, and I may never see one again, but there was a time when I rather faithfully went to church. I was brought in various Christian denominations and my mother was a devout Christian. Her example and influence have been with me my entire life, even as I have branched off to explore other paths, while staying committed to my roots.
Another important thing that frightens me when I see new life brought into this world is the state of the planet currently and the scary prospects for the near future, meaning the next few decades when the sheer folly of our lifestyles and indiscriminate use of fossil fuels threaten to render large parts of the planet uninhabitable by the end of the century, but probably much sooner than that the way things are playing out now. What kind of a world wiIl my great nephew grow up in? Similarly, my very nice next door neighbor had a baby about two months ago. She and my niece are both about 30. They have their whole lives ahead of them still. So do their precious infants. I fervently hope they won’t have to live in future times that make them regret they had children. The worst thing for a mother is to see her child suffer.
With this all being said, the following essay seems almost too hopeful and even naive, knowing what we now know about how close we are to the point of no return for our civilization. I’m still hopeful the worst can be averted, but I never could have imagined when I wrote this in 1999 that we would be facing so much peril, so quickly, as we are now as 2022 approaches.
An essay written on Nov. 7, 1999:
The Gift of Children
Baptisms at our church are happy occasions. The minister delights in taking the infant in his arms and showing the child to the congregation. One of the newest members of the Christian church, he exclaims. A gift from God. The parents and sponsor are standing in front of those assembled, beaming with pride
As the minister and cradled infant approach, I have to strain to see the baby, so innocent and so helpless. Surrounded by so many people. Totally dependent on the love and care of others.
As I say, it’s a happy occasion. It occurred once again this past Sunday. The parents, the minister said, met each other in a church in another South Carolina town, married in that church and have now produced a child. For all those older members of the congregation to see, there comes among them a child, radiant and pure. Life carries on.
For me, however, it’s all rather bittersweet. I rejoice and marvel at each child’s innocence and the beautiful, trusting expressions on their faces. But those sacraments of the church also remind me of how much is missing from my life, not having any children of my own. Not being able to watch them sleeping peacefully, laughing spontaneously. Not being there to comfort them when they hurt, or delighting in their learning and maturation as they make their way in the world, from childhood to adulthood.
I read a lot about broken marriages and families in online diaries and journals, about marriages long abandoned, about single mothers raising children, teenagers and young adults preparing to make their way in the world, nurtured and supported by single mothers and fathers. The love for children is permanent and unyielding, in most cases.
I observed the expressions on the faces of that young couple in church Sunday, watching their infant daughter being baptized, and I felt confident that the child was in good hands. I hoped the future held happiness for her within a loving family.
As for me, I must learn these things secondhand. I must read and wonder and imagine, and have insights revealed to me at such events as a baptism. It’s a difficult struggle sometimes. One’s perceptions and orientation toward life are focused on things other than children and family. That sweet innocence of childhood is mostly a memory, and now it’s almost an abstract concept, lost to me, remote and never to be lived again through a child of one’s own.
For you who have children, they are a precious gift. Savor them. Love them. Embrace them. Hold onto them dearly and let them go when it is time.
ConnieK ⋅ December 27, 2021
I felt that way about grandchildren. When our foster daughter asked us to fill the grandparent role, I was overjoyed. So maybe the lesson is that biology has very little to do with what makes family. I suspect you, too, might need an extended family. At least consider it. I'd recommend starting with a photography group, so you meet people who are interested in the same thing.
music & dogs & wine ⋅ December 27, 2021
♥️
Jinn ⋅ December 29, 2021
I have always felt my children are blessings. They are good men and I have been fortunate to have them. I love them deeply and I feel confident that they love me back. However if I was young now and thinking about a family ; I would not choose to have children. Like you I am very worried about how the world is going to be if we do not arrest climate change and I do not have any confidence that is going to happen. We know all the problems and the dire timetable to try to fix this destruction but are you seeing any mad rush to fix any of it ? I don’t . We are just waiting for the planet to die. It’s unbelievable to me that all people are not frantically working to correct these problems , knowing time is running out but we do little to nothing. We talk about it a lot . It’s more important to agonize over the stock market , fund the military , and make sure the one percent does not have to pay their taxes , unlike the working class. Climate disasters , Inflation, homelessness , mass shootings, inability to afford medical care , poverty , and untreated mental illness ; none of these deadly conditions seem to motivate our government to change anything. The population seems to have no influence with the government at all . For two years a virus is killing us . I think the planet is fighting back and ridding itself of a parasite ( the human race ) that has been killing her. I almost want to cheer her on .
Oswego Jinn ⋅ December 29, 2021 (edited December 29, 2021)
Edited
You perfectly expressed how I feel. However, those around me don’t want to hear what you've just said. My dear sister probably senses the truth of how dire it all is, but she just became a grandmother for the first time. Do you think she is about to unload on her daughter anytime soon about her true feelings? And my niece is an environmentalist. She should know better, but (and this is crucial) she is young, her whole life and new motherhood are spread out before her, and she has a perpetually sunny disposition. In many ways I envy her optimism so much, but the destruction of the planet as we have known it, and its ability to sustain life for the human species and all other life, is happening far more quickly than our eminent climate and other scientists could have imagined even five years ago.
You’re right, world leaders should be frantically working to avert the looming catastrophe. Greenland, the Arctic, and most alarmingly, Antarctica are melting before our very eyes. Sea levels will rise much more quickly than predicted, starting this decade and only accelerating exponentially. But the leaders in both parties in the U.S. and all around the world for the most part, seem to be, or actually are, powerless to act decisively because the 1 percent want their lives of luxury to continue forever, the planet be damned.
The young are angry, but bewildered. How could this be happening to them? We who are 70 and up have lived our lives for the most part, so we think it won’t affect us. But of course it will. It will affect anyone who has children or grandchildren growing up in this blighted world previous generations have selfishly willed into being. Even I, who have only a niece and nephew, and now one great nephew, am terribly worried about their futures. Yes, our generation won’t be around, but what about them? Will they have hope like my niece? Will there be time? Will we desperately cling to technology to save us? I say let’s build thousands of desalination plants around the world, but then they’d all be underwater soon enough.
Jinn Oswego ⋅ January 10, 2022
It’s terrible to say but much as I would love a grandchild; I don’t want my sons to have any . If it does happen I will be terrified for that child’s future .
Jinn ⋅ December 29, 2021
Aside from that depressing comment ; I want to wish you a good new year !
Oswego Jinn ⋅ December 29, 2021
The same to you! 😌
Newzlady ⋅ December 30, 2021
You have to hope that your child will be a part of the solution. The world needs more intelligent people, and I was fairly certain my child would be one (and I was right!). Same for my grandchild.
Oswego Newzlady ⋅ December 30, 2021
Fortunate indeed! I hope they both will use thar intelligence to help create a sustainable world.