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On this, the first wedding anniversary of my dear friends, Tom and Lisa, I think it’s appropriate to continue my thoughts about maturity, relationships, and families. I was honored to be part of their wedding celebration last year, especially since I’d watched their relationship develop from friendship to committed relationship. I was further honored when, five months later, Tom (a shaman-in-training) agreed to be the officiant at my own wedding.
We—Tom, Lisa, Paul, and I—are around the same age. That is, hovering around or already into our 40s. Some of us, such as Tom and me, are in new phases of our careers. Tom is devoting his life to assisting others toward spiritual growth, and I am honing my craft to honor the healing portion of my calling as a writer. For himself, Paul is beginning to write more than he ever has before, and we're planning to build a Music Room into our new home so that he can keep creating music. In fact, all four of us are going through massive changes; as I write this, Lisa is approximately eight weeks away from giving birth to hers and Tom's first child.
How did we get to this point? If you look at it as a timeline, we simply lived our lives as they unfolded for us. Following our drive, making mistakes, fixing them. But now, we find ourselves at the point (albeit relatively late by societal standards) of beginning to grow our families.
Some of my peers are sending their kids to college next year. I’m trying to plan next year’s trip to India based on what trimester of pregnancy I might be in if I get pregnant before 2008 disappears. Very different feeling. And not one I’m altogether comfortable with.
The downside to starting a family so late is that I have become accustomed to my life as it is. The freedom, the spontaneity, the quiet. (Of course, within that life of freedom and quiet, I spend a fair amount of time watching childbirth programs on Discovery Channel, but you get the point.) I've lived with this body for my whole life; am I really ready to watch it radically and permanently alter? Will I get used to living in that new shell? I finally found the love of my life and I want to be selfish with him for a while. But it feels like there’s no time. We’re both 40 next year, and both concerned about waiting too long to become parents, not to mention the health risks to both mother and baby.
Then again, there are many wonderful aspects to beginning a family life so late: The most obvious is that life has taught me to be secure about what I want as well as what is unacceptable to me. Little things no longer bother me. I’m happy to be alive, and that feeling alone sustains me through most of my days. I’m humbly thankful for getting to be here. And that very idea is what makes me want to share the joy of this life with a child. My child. Our child.
My transition from single woman to wife to (possible) mother has had to come hard and fast for me. In a way, it’s what I’ve been practicing for my whole life—even when I said I would never remarry or have children. All of what I experienced before now has led me here. I have to remember that. In turn, all my contemplation now will feed into the woman I become later on.
I finally realize that there was no other time before now for me to start a family. I couldn’t have done it fifteen years ago, or ten years ago. Even five. No time before this one was the right time for me. I have no idea if Paul and I will have children one day. But I have to assume that if it happens, that will be the right time, too.
