Making babies is a scary thought.

Watched a video on Nick Vujicic today in school – a man with no limbs. Had many different thoughts: firstly, I couldn’t get it out of my head how wrong he looked, even if I was supposed to be accepting. Then I thought how I didn’t think I would be able to parent such a severely disabled child – would I be able to love such a child despite how terribly wrong I thought he looked? Then it really struck me how motherhood is about deciding to make a human being that would turn out to be half you and half spouse, and about making a decision to truly madly deeply fiercely love whatever it is you happened to make. For the rest of your life. No matter what it looked like or smelt like or what it would end up doing.

And I had such a sudden fear and loathing of motherhood, with that terrible element of not-knowing what you were promising to love. At least with marriage, I knew what I was getting into. I made an informed choice. I know what he looks like, how he thinks, what he likes. I know he’s never been in jail. I know he’s good-lookin’ (to me, anyway). But with a baby? I would have to take whatever I got. And not just take, either, but instantly produce that fierce, protective, all-encompassing mother love. What if I couldn’t accept what I’ve made?

I know it sounds horrible as anything and all you mothers are going to roundly condemn me. But I’m so terribly afraid that I won’t have the strength of character to deal with disabilities both mental and physical should a future child have such problems.

The other thing I realized about motherhood today was that should I manage to love my child completely, I’m going to be really crap at letting them go. Because today I broke down in tears thinking about innocence and knowing that it isn’t going to last forever. I thought about mistakes I’ve made and things I’ve done and felt utterly repulsed and revolted at the thought of someone near and dear to me making the same mistakes and doing the same things. It totally isn’t about not doing what I wouldn’t do. It’s me having learnt the excruciating lessons through my stupid childish behavior in the past, and having learnt the lessons, wanting my babies to learn the same lessons, to know the outcomes, without making those same mistakes. Without sullying their purity. The thought simply paralyzed me. I know if you don’t make the mistakes, the lesson probably isn’t ever going to be fully understood – but couldn’t you know what I know? That actions are irreversible. That innocence is the worst thing to lose. That something you do in the heat of the moment, knowing the consequences but disregarding them in that split second is never something you should have ever done.

That ten years down the road, mistakes I made still flash back in my mind to haunt me and every single time I wish I’d been smart enough to learn the lesson without making those mistakes. Because I really should have known better then.

And I wish that for those I love. I wish for wisdom and discernment. To know that the consequences of your actions last a lifetime. To know that guilt can lurk in one’s heart forever, even if no one ever knows what stupid and moronic things you did. To truly understand how to be good without having to try being naughty.

If I had to watch my child grow up and make those mistakes in order to learn those lessons, if I had to watch them lose that innocence and purity, I think I would die from grief and despair.

Motherhood probably really sucks.

[2 bends in the road]