Subject: FW: CHILDREN

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she
and her husband are thinking of "starting a family." "We're taking a
survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.

"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous
vacations."

But that is not what I meant at all. I look at my daughter, trying to
decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in
childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child
bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional
wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable I consider warning her
that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "What if that
had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt
her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if
anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no
matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the
primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!"
will cause her to drop a soufflé or her best crystal without a moments
hesitation. I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she
has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by
motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going
into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet
smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running
home, just to make sure her baby is all right. I want my daughter to know
that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old
boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's
will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering
trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity
will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking
in that restroom.

However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself
constantly as a mother. Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure
her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will
never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be
of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up
in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more
years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish
theirs I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will
become badges of honor.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, and not in the way
she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man
who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his
child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again
for reasons she would now find
very unromantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel
with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and
drunk driving. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing
your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh
of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a
dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real
it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my
eyes. You'll never regret it," I finally say. Then I reached across the
table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and
for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this
most wonderful of callings. Please share this with a Mom (or Grandmother)
that you know, and all of your girlfriends who may someday be Moms.

May you always have in your arms the one who is in your heart.