Children

I'm reading an anthology called the poet's child. It has greats such as Hayden Carruth, Lucille Clifton, as well as other lesser known poetry like "Magic Words to Cure a Sick Child," an inuit song. Children. The whole process is so baffling. My cousin is now pregnant, and another person I know has just told me he and his wife are having twins. My response, "Wow, congratulations, I don't envy you." That is partial truth and partial lie. I'm not ready for children. I am committed to waiting at least 5 years so I can have my masters degree finished, my first book published, etc. I want to have a moderate amount of personal success before I could even fathom taking care of someone else. The part that I envy is simply he and his wife's personal success that has allowed them to now say, 'we are ready to take this step.' I felt ready for marriage even though I had never imagined being ready at such a young age. I know a child is far in the distance, but it's still exciting that I know I am with someone I will eventually take that step with.

On the negative side, two people my co-worker knows have had miscarriages in their seventh or eight month. They have funerals for the dead children that they still have to give birth to. Horrific and wonderful things can happen during a pregnancy. The fear and stress alone of your body malfunctioning in some way is terrifying. In any case, it remains natural for such things to take place, although I have never experienced an event like that. When I think of still born babies, I think of Margaret Atwood's description of Econowifes and the little coffins they carry in their cheap black garments. The dead fetuses are called "unbabies" or "shredders."

At the bodies exhibit at the seaport, I did not look around me in the room that carries fetuses and dead baby parts. I turned my eyes to the floor, and quickly hurried to the next room. I moved from the reproductive system to the circulatory without so much as a glance at the corpses lying before me. They were supposed to be fascinating and as much as I don't abide by religion or religious imagery, I picture cherubs dead and falling from the sky, descending from the ceilings of chapels and cathedrals. I think of baby birds that are naked and I have passed in the spring time as they have fallen out of their nests. I wonder if I will be fortunate enough to one day have a healthy pregnancy and be a happy parent.

Plosk has been speaking of what great parents he believes we will be together. I have suggested we create a box of all things we would one day like to show the child we hope to have together. Slowly gaining excitement and momentum by storing little treasures away, like a squirrel does waiting for winter. One day I will be ready for a child, but my own success must come first. Having a child anytime soon would be for me a cowards way out. I would focus on someone else instead of myself and my own goals. To have a child now would mean I have nothing of my own to give to the world so I must create something to do it for me.