Thoughts on my daughter

Pet peeve. So, people want you, as a parent, to be tied to the themes of collective parenting. You discover this before your child is born, and throughout the child’s development. It goes something like this . . .

Be Giddy

At your child’s birth, you must be giddy, blown away by the fact that you produced (or involved in producing) this wonderful gift. Happiness should abound, doubt needs to be discarded; all is well.

The Famous Question

The famous question comes in form of a question, and sometimes it comes in the form of a statement. Simply stated, “Can you imagine your life without your child?” Or “I bet you can’t imagine what you did before your child was born!” People who say these things tend to have the same dumb, annoying smile spreading across their smackable faces.

The Innocent Fantasy

The innocent fantasy comes in a couple of forms, from what I can see. People want their children to remain “innocent” for as long as possible or forever, whichever one happens last. Or they raise holy fire on sport athletes if they show their deteriorating humanity, because, you know, their kids are going to be ruined now. Their children have idolized these athletes and these athletes owe their lives, their perfection, to the generation of innocent children. Dammit!

Just you wait

“Oh, well, just you wait until they become teenagers . . .” And blah, blah, blah.

My response

The birth of my daughter was not a happy day for me; I was embarrassed. I didn’t see myself as a father. I didn’t want to be a father. Nothing about the position offered solace. I didn’t love Saskia until she was five months. Friends couldn’t understand this . . . or could they? I think some could, but they were afraid about what the pressure police would think. I was anything but giddy at my daughter’s entrance.

Yes! I can very clearly imagine my life without my daughter in it. Do I wish this to happen? By no means! However, my life was not empty without my daughter; it is filled differently, now, but it feels more like a reshaping than a mere filling. And perhaps it is best stated by this card I picked up a couple of months ago: There are lives I can imagine without children, but none of them have the same laughter and noise. My days with my daughter is a gift, if she were taken from me tomorrow, I would be less for a while, but eventually more, having known her pretty voice. And my life would continue.

I don’t want Saskia to be innocent forever. I don’t. One of my friends was asking me how I will explain to Saskia about my art and photography collection. I have paintings and photography, hanging in my house, which entails artistic levels of nudity. I have no shame about this. They are not pornographic, and I do not hold puritanical sensibility when it comes to art . . . or life for that matter. I will have little to explain to Saskia. In truth, it will be society who must explain their position: to hide that which is beautiful.

In addition, Saskia will be her own hero, her own self striving to become her better self. No idols or expectations of perfection within the human race. Failure is part of our humanity, our essence, our greatness. We can do something that supposedly God cannot do: we can fail; we can grow.

And as far as waiting until my daughter turns a teenager, I will be ready when it happens. I love a challenge, and I don’t run from fights or roaring bears. I simply breathe, hoping to calm to storm and quell the tribulation. We’ll see. . .