Growing up, parenthood wasnâ??t central to my fantasies of adult life â?? but it wasnâ??t in opposition to them, either. By the time I was in my 20s and working as a bookseller and writing, and then going to graduate school and then getting married, and still writing, I wasnâ??t sure if I wanted to have kids. But when I turned 29, the urge to be a mother arrived, and it was so powerful it embarrassed me. Baby Fever! I had it! It wasnâ??t so much that I made a decision as the decision was made for me, by my body. Thankfully, my husband thought it was a good idea. A year later, there we were: someoneâ??s mother and father.
There are some parents who feel that parenting is their vocation, the central reason for their existence. I donâ??t feel that way. Raising my son is an important and beautiful facet of my life, but itâ??s not the only one. Maybe thatâ??s because the desire to have a child came upon me suddenly, almost by surprise, or maybe itâ??s because I already have a vocation, writing, which took hold of me long ago. Despite my biological imperative, Iâ??m certain I would have still lived a fulfilling life had I not had my child. For me, that makes parenting all the more pleasurable and meaningful. It wasnâ??t the only path of fulfillment and happiness I saw before me, and itâ??s never felt like some destined part of my identity, and yet, I chose it. I choose it every day.
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