About 10 years ago, a couple of my friends and I occasionally took this yoga class at a women's center in the town where we lived. The class was taught by a 91 year old woman and attended mostly by women in their 60s and 70s.
One day, the women descended upon us. "Do you have kids?" "Have you thought about having kids?" "When do you think you'll want to start your family?" None of us had children and the thought wasn't even remotely in any of our 20 year old heads.
The Ladies of the Yoga Class, however, began a debate amongst themselves. The class was pretty well divided in half between one faction, which believed whole-heartedly in having children young so that you could have enough energy and enthusiasm to raise your children, and another faction of wait-until-you're-older believers, who valued the added wisdom and financial security that a few extra years that pre-baby production could bring.
It was actually a rather heated debate.
So I'll be 31 when Elise is born. Waiting was the right thing for me. Husband and I know each other so well, have had so many experiences together, have done so many fun things, and had a life together that has been uniquely ours and just between the two of us for so long. Having this baby feels like a new adventure in an already wonderfully complex and fulfilling relationship.
But I don't think I would immediately council someone that they should wait. Hearing those ladies talk made me realize that there are advantages to both starting your family young and to waiting until you're older. Everyone has different priorities.
Silly old ladies. You'd have thought that they were arguing over religion or something. I guess that in some ways they were-- becoming a parent impacts your life, your philosophy, your connection to other people just as much as religion does. And each of those ladies were convinced that they'd chosen the "right" path on their mommyhood journey. They wanted to make believers of us.
I've found my own personal baby nirvana. And I can't wait to meet my little Buddha.
me remember that class. :)
ReplyDeletewhat was that instructor's name? Babe? i think it was. i wonder if that was a nickname or her real name. i can imagine some hip couple in the 1920s having a little girl and saying, "hey, babe. let's name her Babe!" cuz the bootlegged liquor had taken effect on their heads.
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