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Time is running out1 for my friend. While we are sitting at lunch she
casually mentions she and her husband are thinking of starting a family. “We're
taking a survey,”she says, half-joking. “Do you think I should have a baby?”
“It will change your life,” I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral2. “I
know,”she says, “no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous3
holidays”
But that's not what I mean at all. I look at my friend, trying to decide
what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth
classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal,
but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional4 wound so raw5 that she
will be vulnerable6 forever.
I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without
thinking: “What if that had been MY child?” That every plane crash, every house
fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will
wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die. I look at her
carefully manicured7 nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how
sophisticated8 she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive9 level
of a bear protecting her cub10.
I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in
her career, she will be professionally derailed11 by motherhood. She might
arrange for child care, but one day she will be going into an important business
meeting, and she will think her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every
ounce of discipline12 to keep from running home, just to make sure her child is
all right.
I want my friend to know that every decision will no longer be routine.
That a five-year-old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the
women's at a restaurant will become a major dilemma. The issues of independence
and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester13
may be lurking14 in the lavatory15. However decisive she may be at the office,
she will second-guess16 herself constantly17 as a mother.
Looking at my attractive friend, I want to assure her that eventually18 she
will shed the added weight19 of pregnancy20, but she will never feel the same
about herself. That her own life, now so important, will be of less value to her
once she has a child. She would give it up in a moment to save her offspring21,
but will also begin to hope for more years—not to accomplish her own dreams—but
to watch her children accomplish theirs.
I want to describe to my friend the exhilaration22 of seeing your child
learn to hit a ball. I want to capture23 for her the belly laugh24 of a baby who
is touching the soft fur of a dog for the first time. I want her to taste the
joy that is so real it hurts.
My friend's look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
“You'll never reGREt it,” I say finally. then, squeezing25 my friend's hand, I
offer a prayer for her and me and all of the mere mortal women who stumble26
their way into this holiest of callings.
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发表于 2016-7-10 11:36:58