Baby On Bored

by Amara Norman

My mom wants grandchildren. And somehow, that’s my responsibility? I understand the impulse and I want to deliver on my end of the hereditary deal, but I’m worried… about everything. The world I’m living in today is not the same world I was living in when I was 12, picking out edgy gender-neutral names for my hypothetical children (Francis and Tatum were favorites). Back then, kids were just something I would own one day. Now that I know all the work that goes into producing a functional, relatively happy human being (and all the work that the world is doing to make that harder) I know that there are factors to consider other than simply wanting a child. These are the things that are causing my procreative panic… 

LESSONS LEARNED 

When it comes to whippersnappers, the how, when, and why are much bigger considerations than they were a generation ago. Many of our grandparents, beloved “Baby Boomers” and immigrants, were encouraged to reproduce by capitalism, the government, and the sheer excitement of having survived wars and other harrowing experiences. Our parents were stupidly optimistic about us. We are the generation of afterschool programs, therapy, and SAT tutors. Granted, these were reserved for the most privileged of us in many cases, but we’ve all attended some form of ancillary  “enrichment program.” And here we are, enriched. All of the attention and benefits that we’re constantly reminded were bestowed upon us have taught me that life is a gamble. With all the joy of life, the connection, the learning and triumph, there is a lot of fear and violence and chaos that we endure. When life expectancies were shorter, when physical labor was more grueling and more prevalent, and when you had to build your own community in person because there was no Internet, kids were a hotter commodity. Nowadays, I have to weigh the existential pros and cons. And thanks to those that came before us, I have the time and hindsight to do so.

MY BODY 

One of my biggest concerns about having a child is the toll that gestation and childbirth will take on my body. As a cis-gendered woman, I am biologically, theoretically capable of producing children. Historically, this has been taken for granted and considered a woman’s primary purpose, but it is merely a POSSIBILITY, for SOME. And still! It’s a real journey and one that will inevitably change the body that I‘ve worked hard to shape, and inherently my feelings towards myself and my identity. 

In the past year, I’ve been on a real personal health journey- I wanted to bridge the gap between how I looked and how I felt, and it worked! Lately, I’ve felt great about my external image and mental state, something I’ve struggled with for over a decade. Finally conquering that dysmorphia has been rough, and potentially opening myself up to a new form of that is scary. Pregnancy would mean giving up my physical autonomy for the better part of a year to grow a person- no small feat. Then I would have to figure out who this new person is, this person who just had a baby- how she looks, how she feels about herself, how she wants to look and what all of that means… all while nursing an infant.

SIDE EFFECTS MAY INCLUDE 

Aside from giving up control of my body to a strange little alien whom I know nothing about, but am told I will love, there will be lasting ramifications on my mind and body. The basics include weight gain, sore muscles, and your internal organs shifting to accommodate the alien I mentioned earlier. Throw in peeing constantly, heartburn, hot spells, mood swings, vomiting, and forced rest, which sounds great, but I’m sure would make me restLESS. Some of these are seemingly innocuous–avocados started making my mom nauseous after she had me and I know a lot of women who’ve gone up a shoe size or a few clothing sizes following their pregnancies. Some of these effects may last longer or forever- I get a headache just thinking about hypothetical back problems, persistent medical conditions, or possible complications during recovery. 

WOMEN’S TROUBLES

Health is the primary concern of any pregnancy. Babies have to get here, that’s kind of the first step. And despite the medical advances we’ve made, there are still a disproportionate amount of physical concerns that plague women of color.  This country has never been a safe institution in terms of caring for women’s bodies, especially women of color. There is a history of forced sterilization and eugenics experiments performed on Black and Native people en masse. I’m reminded daily that we are not that far removed from this history by headlines like “A Black Mother Gives Birth To A Baby in a Bathtub  After Being Turned Away From Hospital”. And hearing about the high-profile instances of neglect like that of Kim Porter, who died of pneumonia after being sent home by her doctor, despite showing flu-like symptoms or Serena Williams’ personal account of her daughter’s birth do nothing to assuage my fears.

I recently watched a Grey’s Anatomy episode in which Miranda Bailey, the no nonsense Chief of Surgery at Grey-Sloan Memorial Hospital walks into an emergency room and tells a male doctor/colleague that she is having a heart attack. And this jerk proceeds to ignore her self-diagnoses, refuses to run more tests, and patronizes her to no end only for her to have a fully preventable cardiac incident. I know that TV is sensationalized, but the ways in which Black women’s pain is ignored and the far higher health risks are very real. Compared to white women, Black, Native American, and Alaska Native women are three times more likely to die from causes related to pregnancy. These realities remind me that the body I was born into is still under attack and that my community and I are going to have to fight for each other if we want that to change. We have to be resources and advocates for each other, because we know what it looks like when we’re hurting, and who else will stand up for us?

IT TAKES A VILLAGE 

Community is key. Though my relationship with Trader Joe has been going well for a while now, we have no plans to make things official. So if I were to have a child at this point, I have to ask: with who? And how, Sway? What positive members of a village, and what resources will my child have? I don’t have to wait for a perfect male partner who will cherish our relationship and me, provide for me, want to grow together, and have a child. That’s the fantasy, the one we’re all born chasing, the one that rarely actually works out. Now there are an inspiring number of new avenues and options that don’t involve a traditional heteronormative partnership. There are sperm donors, surrogates, and adoption agencies, each of which has their own set of complications to navigate. There are new modes of family in 2019, but a strong support system is always necessary. These things are not always guaranteed, but I would want to give my child the best chance at feeling loved, protected, supported in this world. So as I work on finding the people in the world that make me feel this way, I am also searching with this hypothetical child in mind, and that may take some time. 

KIDS, IN THIS CLIMATE? 

Literally, our physical world is in peril. Even (especially) children are noticing. It seems kind of harsh to have kids only for them to have to grow up in a barren wasteland- imagine how kids growing up in Reseda feel. I took Earth Science; I know the sun is just an expanding ball of gas and one day that ball will explode, that’s the end game here. We’re reminded daily that we have accelerated this process- summer that lasts into November, melting ice caps, the growing number of endangered species, pollution, etc. In California, we’ve given up straws and grocery bags, people- it’s serious. And apart from our environment eroding before our eyes, there is also the social climate to consider. 

Let’s face it, men are trash. I say this as someone who has tried to like them, but patriarchal culture is pretty awful. Check any online dating app screenshots, check any poppin’ group texts, check any woman in your life who is older and wiser, check TV, check movies, check Mary J. Blige lyrics. We currently have a president whose name I plan on redacting from all the books I own. Safety is a growing concern as there have been 1300 school shootings since 1970. And the numerous incidents of violence against the transgender community are indicative of how dangerous it can be to merely exist in this world. Should my brown child be born any more marginalized, whether it be physically, developmentally, in terms of their sex, sexuality, or even in their interests, they will face harassment and maybe even violence. 

Ultimately, I’m just not sure about having children. And the pressure to become a mom, though relatively light, is still felt- like a white person standing too close behind you in the checkout line.  

This feels like something I should be sure about, not about how it will turn out, but about what I want. And I should be realistic about my ability to provide the best life for my child. For me, that means having a strong mental state, strong communication skills, a strong support system, and a stable home. Things will happen that are far beyond my control and the best I can do is keep my hypothetical kid safe, fill them with love, and teach them how to cope.  

So wish me luck in telling my mom that she’s going to have to wait a while.