“The Most Important Thing You’ll Ever Do”

Yes, it’s Friday night and I’m at home blogging… I think I’m coming down with something and Fringe is on, so I thought it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to stay in tonight.

Today I went to lunch with two friends of mine that I knew from my old job.   Mary is out on maternity leave and has a 5 month old bouncing baby boy.  Adrienne has a 10 month old adorable baby girl and has been back to work for a few months.  It had taken some time for the 3 of us to coordinate our schedules since we are all pretty busy, but I was glad to finally be able to sit and spend time with them and catch up.

Both babies were beautiful but…Mary’s baby boy made my heart stop.  Mary is Asian (like me) and seeing her baby made me think about what mine, if I were to ever have one, would look like…

We caught up briefly, asking about each other’s families, etc, etc and the talk soon turned to weaning baby off bottle, and at what point to start feeding solids… needless to say I had nothing to really contribute, but did my best to look interested and ask pointed questions throughout the conversation.  Mary wanted advice from Adrienne about sleep schedules and how to avoid diaper leaks at night…

I took turns playing with and holding each baby to give their mommies time to eat lunch and a moment away from fussing baby. I’m good with kids – I love them, and usually they love me.  I bounced Baby Boy on my lap, and wiped drool off teething Baby Girl’s chin, while the two moms chatted.  I was very intent on the crazy faces I was making to induce toothless, gummy laughter from both children, but I still picked up on the conversation.  And I heard this:

“Having a child is the most important thing you’ll ever do.”

If it wasn’t already mind numbingly obvious, I was the only woman at the table without a child, and on top of that, I wasn’t anywhere even close.

I politely pretended that I didn’t hear what Adrienne had said.  I didn’t want her to engage in an awkward reassurance, because she’s so sweet she would try.  And I didn’t want her to see the look on my face, because I’m not sure what it would reveal.

I look at my life and think for the most part, things are fine the way they are. Sure, I could use some help in the romance department, but otherwise, I’m pretty happy.  But that comment made me think – if having a child is the most important thing a person can do…what does that mean about my life?

Children are a wonderful thing.  A chance for you to leave something of yourself here in this world, long after your gone.  A living, breathing, human being whom you love unconditionally… I know why people want children.

I think I would like to have a child, but I don’t want to have a child just to have one… I want the whole package – mommy, daddy, and baby.  And I don’t want to have a child with just any man – I want to have a child with a man who will always be in his child’s life, regardless of whether the love between he and I, blooms or fades…a man who my child can always rely upon.  I know that if I never find the man that I am confident will be a great father, then it is likely I will never have a child.

So…if having a child is the most important thing I’ll ever do…what does it mean if I never have one?

Thoughts?

 

My Dad is Rad

I’m sitting at a French dip sandwich place and there’s an old man sitting next to me. He’s probably in his late 70’s, early 80’s. He’s got a baseball cap with an American flag on it and it’s pulled down over his curly white hair. Amber colored blue blockers hang down from a string around his neck. His beige jacket is oversized and has faded corduroy elbow pads. He softly coughs over his potato salad and half eaten French dip sandwich.

I glance up at him from time to time and see his lips moving in a soft whisper. They stop only for the cup of coffee he puts to his lips every minute or so.

He reminded me of my Dad when I saw him. A pang of guilt flashed through my torso as I thought to myself how much he would’ve liked this French Dip place and how I should’ve called him to meet me. It was a last minute lunch stop – I had expected to be done before lunch today and back in the office. Still…this old man makes me think of my Dad eating lunch alone. I dont like the thought of him being alone.

The man I’ve been referring to as my father is not my biological father – he’s my step-father. He has raised me since I was 8 and treated me as his own. He is patient, kind, smart, and selfless. He has always provided for me in every way he could. I get choked up just thinking about how wonderful he is.

My Dad is rad. I’m going to stop by the house on my way home and say hello.