Heavy stuff: The case for kids

A friend recently told me about a colleague who is a nurse. This woman is in her 40's and single with no children.

A patient was complaining one day that he had to stay in the hospital longer than expected and she replied, "Yeah, well, my mom told me I'd be married with babies. Life's not fair, is it?"

During our chaotic breakfast yesterday, I suddenly thought of this story again and of this nurse without her babies.

Some people never really feel a strong urge to breed or aren't that bothered if they can't. For some, it's not the end of the world.

For me, it simply would have been.

For a terrible, heart wrenching second, I looked at my kids and thought of the alternate reality where these two fighting, whining, crying, laughing, screaming whirlwinds do not exist. And I am the woman who learned that life's not fair and we don't all get the storybook ending.

Here's the deal: I complain. Maybe too much but in the trenches, it can get grim. From what I've seen so far, kids are pretty much the greatest source of work, stress, anxiety and heartache you'll ever find.

They are the ultimate demanding job: 7 days a week, at least 12 hours a day (sometimes more). I had to get up for my day at 5:30 am this morning and that was a GOOD night (no overnight wakeups). You almost never get a vacation. They never say thank you. It is the marathon that never ends but never stops feeling insanely important.

Have I scared you yet?

But. I don't forget what I have. And I don't want to paint a false picture of the deal you get when you have kids.

Yes, there is all the banal badness. But for me (and most people), they are simply the greatest dream realized. They are the deepest instinct satisfied. They are the missing puzzle piece for our bodies and our lives that we often didn't even know was lacking.

I have yet to meet a parent who wasn't completely head-over-heels for their own baby, no matter how much they try to act cool. Personally, I was shocked when I first took my first good look at baby Mela and realized the depth of the love. It actually terrified me for a long time, to the point where I couldn't watch the news because you were sometimes faced with the reality that things.happen.to.kids. And that means something could someday happen to the most precious thing to ever come into existence.

And it rocks because this person is made of you! It still doesn't get old, looking at another human being and seeing your eyes or your partner's mouth. You look at a separate human being and you see yourself and the love of your life combined.

Especially after a firstborn who strongly favours the other side (I've been asked if I was her nanny!), it's even better if you get one that looks like you and your family. There is an instinctive pride ... an ego and tribal glow when people say, "That must be your child. He looks just like you!"

This is immortality and it feels good.

And you're stunned that you created them and your body grew them and you literally brought them into the world and now your love (and discipline) is helping to shape them.

And it doesn't stop there. They constantly surprise you because they're constantly changing. This is sometimes bad (e.g. just when you start to get the hang of it ...) but it's also good. It means the bad stuff doesn't last. They start out like a external organ you have to nurture but then become more independent and one day seem almost like a real person and then the next day, they are.

And they tell you jokes and they figure things out and they ask legitimate questions (e.g. "Why do we eat chicken eggs for breakfast?") and they get really excited about things we no longer value (e.g. rainbows are huge in our house). And that's just the start because really, Amelia is still only two (almost three!) and think of all the adventures we have ahead of us still.

And you are a god because you created them. And they are gods because you worship them.

On a daily basis, they drive you crazy. In the big picture, they are no less than the reason you exist. A tree's purpose is to thrive so that it can produce offspring. This is universal among the species on our planet. Humans just overthink it. Nothing else we do (unless you're the President passing healthcare reform!) has the importance and permanence of procreation.

Some people think that the world doesn't need more people. That it is the ultimate selfishness to add to the population. Ego and environmental stuff aside, there is another compelling reason to consider ... it's a total conversation downer but it's out there.

What else in the world (other than religion) has the power to soften the crushing blow of death? My grandfather passed away last week and when the heart gasps at the loss, at the thought of never-agains and a lifestory ended, the priceless comfort is the smooth face of your child ("Okay, Mama!").

Because that's the cycle. You pay the darkness so you can have the light. And it hurts when the toll is due but you can't complain because the new crop has already sprouted up and is running forth and you have basked in its glory.

Life's not fair, it's true. Not everyone gets what they want or deserve. Some of us get a little more of than we expected. But I am trying to remember the other, childless me and sweat the hard stuff a little bit less and kiss my kids a little bit more. Because I have won the lottery twice in my lifetime and the proof is sitting at my kitchen table.

Oh, and another thing about kids? They keep you in the moment. Two seconds after I almost wept looking at my children's faces, Nate dropped a spoonful of oatmeal on my Crocs.

And so it goes.

Proof #1:
Proof #2: