Ambivalence Expounded

In my mid 20’s, and during my first years of marriage, I had decided I didn’t want children. I wanted to be free of the obligation, the hard work, and not to mention the heartache that inevitably comes with motherhood.

But life leads us in the direction we need to go, and we get little hints along the way.

My dad had a heart attack one year after I was married, and the rug was pulled out from underneath me. Hercules in the eyes of his daughter – the man who could do just about anything, fix just about anything, build just about anything. I spoke to him on the phone from his hospital bed. As he told me about his experience - that he lost feeling in both his arms, and struggled to breathe but still refused to accept that something was wrong – I lost it. I felt so helpless. My dad - who so lovingly raised me, who woke up with us before school when I was in 5th grade to help me curl my hair, who was so strict with me as a teenager (which I now realize was his way of showing he loved me), and now that I am an adult, who never lets me leave without telling me he loves me – was sick.

My memory of him in the hospital will stay with me always. The nurse, in awe of all the long-staying guests in the room asked him, “how many children do you have?” to which he responded, “I have a double King’s ransom… two boys and two girls”. I looked at her face, and realized that my dad was the luckiest man alive, not because he had survived his heart attack, but because he had a family. I knew in my heart that my life would not be complete without children.

Just one month later, my husband’s step-dad lost his long battle with cancer. He was surrounded by his children up until the moment that he died.

On a recent trip to the Washington Coast with my extended family, I retired early after putting my girls to bed, and listened to the clatter of my family in the next room.

I thought of the modern concept of family, and how it's like math. What begins as simple addition (marriage, children), division (divorce), subsequent addition (re-marry) and sometimes subtraction (death) eventually becomes multiplication (grandchildren) and then evolves into algebra (in-laws, etc.)

Sticking with the mathematical analogy, which component does a family need in order to continue to exist?

I've been asked quite a few times why I changed my mind about having children. Instead of relaying the above, I tell them this:

If my 30-year old self could have a conversation with my 50-year old self, what would I say?

My best, logical guess would be To Have Children. 

Twins + Grandpa = Happy