Good Luck

Look, it’s impossible to prepare expecting parents for what is about to happen so I have stopped trying. There was a while there where I would give them advice but eventually I stopped because having a kid is so life altering in such indescribable ways that why bother describing it. I then found myself saying “good luck” and moving on to talk to someone else at the party. There’s so much that happens that you don’t expect when you have a child that to go through every single thing would take a lifetime and who has time for that? And then there’s the stuff that you expect to happen that doesn’t. That’s the stuff you can talk about, but no-one wants to listen.

When Joshua was born I thought my life would suddenly have meaning (Josh, if you’re reading this, know that I love you with all my heart and maybe you should stop reading here) and it did in the sense that there was now this totally dependent being that needed me to survive. It was amazing. Here, before me, was this perfect being, and so my life was complete. My life felt complete. I felt like my life should have been complete but then I dug down deep inside of myself. I don’t recommend this practice. Most of the time it leads places you won’t want to go. Anyway, I dug down deep and looked around, I discovered that I was still the same person I had always been. I was still me and I was still empty.

On the one hand, you know, fine. Good. Back when we decided that we were going to try to have children, I pulled myself aside and made a promise that I would not define myself by my children the way my father had defined himself by my brothers and I. I remember visiting that first thanksgiving after we had all gone off to college and he seemed so empty and lost. We noticed and asked him what was wrong and he said “nothing” but it felt like a part of him was missing. We all felt like there was something wrong. And I felt guilty (as I am wont to do) and began to come up with a plan to move back home so that I could be near him so that he wouldn’t feel so alone. I put this plan away in a drawer and forgot about it and, as the roots of my life away from him grew deeper, it became harder to put the plan in action. I forgot about it, moved on with my life, got married and had children of my own. But on the day that he died, I still felt guilty. Hell, I still feel guilty today.

And I don’t want my children to feel guilty when they ultimately leave. I want them to leave and have rich, full lives. I don’t want them to have to wonder if maybe they should move back home. So I’m keeping myself separate. I’m keeping myself out of it. I’m me and they are them and I’m still empty.

Back when I was in the business of giving expectant parents advice I would tell them that having a child would be life changing and they would say that they knew, and I would tell them that, no, really, it’s going to change your goddamn life. And they would smile, and say thank you, and then walk away from me and try and find someone else to talk to at the party. “You’ll see,” I would think to myself. “You’ll fucking see.” But see what exactly?

Could part of the reason that I was so forceful in my assertion that “having children changes your life” be because I had hoped that, in having kids, my life would have changed more? That I had hoped that they would change me? That I had hoped that the nagging, life long suspicion of my brokenness would suddenly be erased when I saw Josh’s scrunched, screaming, red face for the first time?

You have children and life keeps going because life has a tendency to do that. You’re not different because you are you and you probably always will be. You just have kids now. You have less time. You have less money. You get less sleep. You stay awake late at night and wait for the sound of their car pulling into the driveway. It’s not yet past their curfew, but you woke up an hour ago with images of police lights and caution tape. They shut off the engine, come inside and go upstairs, but you lay awake ‘till dawn. They’re leaving tomorrow. You were so excited for this visit and now it is over. Where the fuck did the time go?

(Anyway)

I say “good luck” to expecting parents now because I hope that they find what they are looking for. Or rather I sincerely hope that they aren’t actually looking for anything because that seems to be the best way to go through life. To commit to something and just sort of see what happens. To not really have a plan.

When I was 13 years old I knew what I wanted my life to be and for the most part I got what I wanted.

But now what? Seriously. If you have any advice let me know!