I have three friends (all in their 50's) who have never had children. Their lives seem so unruffled. They have plenty of money to travel to interesting places. Their sanity remains intact.
Those of us who made the decision to "be fruitful and multiply," must open our eyes each morning to a new pang. Our hearts are beating in the chests of our offspring as well as our own, and there is rarely peace. We must weigh our words and actions so carefully, tread so lightly, know when to help and when to stand back and hold our breath. We question our methods, debate every decision, and worry. Lots of worry.
Our genetics are to blame when they are sick. Our poor parenting skills must have caused them to be slow to mature, or unable to clean up after themselves, or to lack the confidence and social skills to find a mate. It was all much simpler when they were just baby dolls in Fisher Price strollers -- just dreams for the future; the fantasy family of a little girl who believed that loving them with all her heart would be enough.
My childless, peaceful friends have lived their whole lives in a state of ignorant bliss. But, isn't that a bit like eating a bread sandwich? Where's the meat and cheese? The lettuce, tomato, onion and mayo? All of the things that give life it's flavor and fullness are missing from their experience on this earth. Some chose to be childless, and others did not, but the ache to be divided and angst-ridden must live somewhere in their chests? Don't you think?
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