"People Love Kids" - But Should Every Person Be a Parent?

I recently read a comment on one of my earlier articles from the always entertaining and witty AC producer Zac Wissink. I had written about Philadelphia mayoral hopeful Michael Nutter, whose last-minute campaign strategy of featuring his pre-teen daughter in ads touting not only what a good dad but what a good candidate he is. Charmingly done, young Ms. Nutter made a very real impact on Philadelphia voters; her dad won the Democratic nomination, no doubt in no small way influencing voters with her poise and physical attractiveness. She was the kind of young lady you hope your children would choose as a friend. Zac's succinct comment started with a simple sentence: "People love kids." And how true that is.

But just because we can have children, does that mean that everyone has the right to be parents? As I get older and hopefully somewhat wiser, I think not. My own daughters are now in their late teens to early twenties. Would I choose to choose parenthood again, knowing what I know now? I'd love to be able to say quickly "Oh, yes, of course! Kids are great! They're our legacy. Yes, it was tough at times, but it was really worth it in the end." To be brutally honest, I'm not sure what my answer would be. I would need time to think over my answer.

Don't misunderstand, I love my daughters very much. Each of them is quite different, quite unique in their own way. One is high maintenance, and always has been. She has had numerous issues during her short life that have put every one of those gray hairs on my head. She is a beautiful young woman about whom we like to say that she was 'born winking at the doctor'. She knows that she's beautiful, and that many - far too many - things have come too easily to and for her in life. She is compassionate, amiable, funny, carefree, sociable, savvy and a hard worker, when it's to her own benefit. She is also lazy, irresponsible, impatient, and makes poor choices in life, especially when it comes to the young men with whom she has had relationships.

She is also slightly, ever so slightly, jealous of her younger sister. When she was little, a toddler or a slightly older, when she would break something or do something she knew she was not supposed to do, she would put on the 'big eyes' and blurt out in a rush "I love you, Mommy, Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas, I love you!" She was my firstborn, the love of my life, the one with whom I tried so hard to be the perfect mother. She is a good girl, my oldest, but the mistakes I made in raising her - too lenient, too afraid to punish her for fear she'd love me less, too easygoing, didn't always stand by my own rules - will haunt me forever.

She was in therapy for a number of years, but it didn't seem to help, even though we, as a family, stuck with it. She now goes full time to community college and has a part time job in retail. She shows little, if any, inclination in further her education or setting goals for herself. Her father and I fear for her future in a constantly changing economic climate. Is she waiting for Mr. Right or Prince Charming to come along and take care of her forever? I'm terribly saddened to say yes, I think so.

My younger daughter is also quite beautiful, albeit in her own way. (I can say that they are beautiful because a) they are, and b) neither one of them looks a whit like me. They both favor my husband and his family, and two generations ago of mine.) She is the quiet, studious, serious, hard-working one, the one that we never had to worry about. She always did the right thing without being asked. When she was little and hurt herself - tripped, scraped a knee - I would find her quietly comforting herself in a corner, whispering 'ow! ow!' to no one in particular.

She is very, very tall and very athletic. She has to work hard for what she gets in life, but somehow, she always manages to either 'get it' or come very close, without any outside prodding. She loved modeling in New York until it interfered with her school work, her friends, and her sports - and the fun and excitement wore off for her. But even now, she is still quiet, choosing to share her throughts and feelings with a handful of close friends and, joy of joys, her maternal grandmother, with whom she corresponds on a regular (and private) basis.

My mother tells me that she writes of 'being stressed', of 'feeling a lot of pressure'. When I casually try to bring her out in conversation about her feelings, she shuts down completely and tells me that all is okay. As proud as I am of her and her ambitions (she's looking for a career in law or medicine), I still feel that I've let her down myself. Because she was so quiet and so self-sufficient, did I spend as much time with her as I should have? Was there a clue, a sign, a link that I missed? Did I miss it because we were so busy dealing with problems with our older daughter? Maybe one day she'll open up and tell me; I pray that she does. I just hope it's before she heads off for college next year...

Why DO we choose to become parents? Why, after over twenty years of raising my girls, do I still question not only the choice but the end result? Why did I choose parenthood?

I know that for many, many people, both men and women, it's something that they've waited for their entire lives. Perhaps it's a cultural thing, or socioeconomic or a religious belief to not only choose but embrace parenthood. For some, it was an accidental event for a variety of reasons. Do they wish that they could turn back the hands of time as well? We have all read far too many news stories about mothers who abandon their children literally, mothers who deliberately drive them into a lake, sweet babies still strapped firmly into their car seats. We've heard the stories about the fathers who walk out on their families, leaving the mother to fend for herself and the children for the rest of their lives.

We've heard the stories of prominent sports figures and athletes who came from a single parent household, only to hear from the missing parent once they're famous (and rich). There are the parents who try to sell their children for money, most often for drugs or something else that has possessed them. Did these men and women have the right to be parents? How many children have died, been abused, and scarred for life, physically and emotionally, because their mother and father were not fit for the role of parents? I am not advocating abortion rights or a woman's right to choose; I prefer to keep my political and moral compass outside the lines. I am questioning why we think that having children - or not having them - defines us as who we really are at the end of the day.

Having children is easy; raising them to be good people is very hard work. It is a 24/7 job which lasts each and every day from the moment that they are born. Babies come home from the hospital with their parents armed with pamphlets and books about how to take care of them. They don't come with a guidebook teaching those same parents how to deal with personality quirks, temper tantrums, bad manners, poor grades in school, or how to recognize your own child as the individual that he or she will be. It is exhaustingly hard work, full of emotions, bittersweet memories, elation, disappointment, joy - every moment a new and sometimes scary new challenge. If our children can't relate to us as role models for the person that they one day want to be, have we failed them entirely?

As I write this and look over my thoughts in print, I have come to the conclusion that for me, parenthood was not only a choice made with serious thought AND discussion with my husband, but was also the right choice for us both. No one ever said that it would be easy - it isn't, and you lose something of yourself in the process - but no one ever tells you how great the rewards can be. Don't enter into parenthood lightly. If you have doubts, if you know yourself well enough that the sacrifices are more than you are willing or able to make, reconsider your options. The decision really is yours - and it can affect yours, your significant others, and another human life for as long as the three of you are alive.