It’s that time of year again. Slate grey skies have given way to powder blue. The clouds that bridged the horizons now scud lazily about, and the freezing cold has been transformed to more moderate temperatures. Yes my friends, spring has come once again. And that can only mean one thing.
BABIES. LOTS AND LOTS OF BABIES.
Rugrats. Ankle biters. Rug monkeys. Nippers. Tots. Offspring. Imps. Hellspawn. No matter what you call them, it definitely seems to be the season for them. All the cool couples either have them, or are getting them. Or in some instances, both.
A pair of my friends just adopted an adorable little boy from Ethiopia (I believe). Another couple of my friends just recently announced their expectancy with the change of a Facebook profile picture (a bun in an oven).
This couple’s having a baby, that couple’s had a baby… so why aren’t we (my wife and I, that is) ?
It’s a question I’ve been pondering for a while now, but have yet to have a really serious conversation with the wife about. We’ve had some talks about it, sure, but nothing trés sérieux.
I’ve always wanted children – that’s not the issue for me. The issue for me is simply: Am I (are we) ready? Am I ready to be responsible for a human life? Or, more to the point, can I be ready in nine months?
I’m not concerned about the cost of prenatal care – all that will be free here (well, socialized medicine isn’t technically free, but without cost at the time, ok?). What I’m concerned about is not just whether I can be a good father, it’s whether I can be any sort of father at all.
The more I think about it, the scarier the idea of having a child becomes. Especially a girl. Because I have no idea how those work. I’ve always just kinda figured I’d be a good father – when I remember that I’m supposed to be the adult.
My wife and I are both moderately intelligent and resourceful. If the task at hand was creating a business, organizing a club, toppling a foreign government, or maybe walking a ring back to Mordor, I’d say we were ready. But we’re not talking about anything as easy as military coups here. We’re talking about CHILDREN.
Then again, there’s another little voice in my head (obviously sponsored by Nike) that says: Just do it. I worry that I’m overthinking the whole situation, and if I wait until I feel absolutely ready to have children, I’ll never have them. That I should just stop practicing and get her pregnant already.
Very nearly almost but not quite without exception all of the interesting, special and formative things that have happened in my life have happened when I did something without thinking too much about it. Maybe that’s the way to go. I don’t know.
Are the Hillsons ready to reproduce? I’ll let ya know when I figure out an answer.