Baby Boom

Ibrahim and I have this weird thing where we both dream about the same stuff. Like one night we both dreamt about (don't laugh) Harry Potter. (I said don't laugh). And recently we both dreamt I was pregnant/about to give birth.

This disturbs both of us, because while we talk about having kids, we definetly aren't going to have them now or probably any time soon. We are all very Planned Parenthood that way.

Still, the baby dreams bring us ever closer to uncharted territory, because I've wondered for a very long time what it must feel like to know you want children, either now, or someday, because I'll let you in on a not-so-big secret: I've never had a desire to have a kid.

For one thing, I like to sleep, especially on my days off. And kids are so much work. I also feel anxious, neurotic people such as myself probably shouldn't have children any way, because people like me worry the fun out of Disney World trips and Winnie the Pooh movies. I have a feeling I'd be a shitty mom, too, the kind that's busy micromanaging their children's educational activities from conception onward and ends up all clueless and out-of-touch, thinking she has these great, smart kids when in actual fact said kids are smoking weed and drinking beer at their friends' homes whilst I think they're working on their science fair project or practicing for the national spelling bee championship.

Not that I haven't been curious about the whole parent/baby/child thing. For example, I've always wondered what it's like to be pregnant and give birth (I've seen several births, and they've always struck me as extremely painful, messy and miraculous). Then I remind myself I don't do so well with pain, and the whole Birth Experience aside, you have this terrifying baby that's like, all yours and no one else's, and if it doesn't work out the way you planned, you can't just find another home for it like a pet that kept displaying annoying character flaws like peeing on the sofa.

Everyone with kids seems to make it sound like it's so great, but I wonder. Is it really all that great? What if you lose your job, or your house, and now you've got to drag your poor kid through poverty? What if the kid has a horrible disfiguring accident? What happens when the kid becomes a raging ball of petulant hormones and starts listening to rap music and staying out all night, starts smoking, and dating and doing the same mortifying stuff you did as a teen? What if you just plain don't like the kid very much (it's been known to happen)?

I trace my trepidation back to the fact that I was a very small kid when my little sister came around, and too young to really take care of her until we were much older (around the same age when siblings begin to resent things like parents putting the eldest sibling in charge of the younger one). I've never really dealt with babies or small children, except for some babysitting as a kid, and during maternal/newborn nursing school rotation. Pediatric rotation was living hell for me, because I could barely figure out how to give a healthy baby a bottle, much less gavage-feed premature twins with poorly developed suck-swallow reflexes.

The only thing close to proving I have an inkling of maternal instinct resides in the fact that I managed to raise my dog from puppyhood, and he seems pretty well adjusted. Of course, he also doesn't require a college tuition account or driving lessons, or a sweet-sixteen party, or brand new Nikes every six months, so maybe he doesn't really count.