In a world such as ours, I frequently think of how terrifying it would be to have a child. Even as a millennial I find myself thinking that it’s just not the same as it used to be. I contemplate the struggle of striking a balance with my child between the internet and human interaction. I worry which sport they’ll play because if it’s not baseball I don’t know what I’d do with myself. Back and forth I go on the subject. I think of how much my dog irritates me when he whines about going outside or when he cries like a baby when he hears thunder. I wonder if I have it in me. The hours, the sacrifice, the struggle. I have this nightmarish depiction of motherhood.
But then something happens.
I see how my mother interacts with the small children in our family. I see how she lights up as if driven by this invisible force of energy deep within her. I think of how she calls my dog her grandson and insists on having her called grandma when he’s over. Whenever I need someone to watch my dog she’s always there. I think about how my father insists that he needs custody of my dog at least once a week because he misses him so much. I think about tonight when Bobby looks and me and tells me his mother talked about grandkids over the weekend. He says she insists on being called, “Gammy.”
And then I think about how much love this child would have in his or her life. My goodness would that child be loved. And I can’t help but smile. Sure, those scary things will still exist, but at the end of the day, the light will outshine the darkness, and the love that will be given will be infinite. Who am I to deny anyone that amount of love?