I’m scared of children. Babies in particular. And scared is an improvement. I used to be terrified. Maybe my future child will read this one day and get a good laugh. I’ve sort of always struggled to view babies as cute or adorable. Their heads are not proportional to their bodies, they drool and make annoying sounds, and they’re incredibly needy. They scream in the middle of the night. Raising a child in my mind means giving up my life – my freedom, my career, my body, my husband, my home, my time, sleep, even my favorite foods and possibly my workouts. I understand it’s a biological function of being a woman.

I think when the time comes it’ll be okay. The closer my husband and I get to paying off our home (i.e., being 100% debt-free) and the more free time I have, the more I do ponder what it would be like to be a mother. To create a life. To make a human. I know Richard will be a great dad. He’s an excellent husband. Labor scares me to death. The pain sounds awful – I know from talking to other women, reading books (both medical and non-medical), and even seeing the experience on TV and in movies. I wonder if my body is going to rip apart. Nonetheless, women throughout history have been doing it. Teenagers have done it. Many women choose to do it more than once. I’ve never really had a lot of pain (thankfully), so I don’t know what I’d even compare it to – menstrual cramps, perhaps?? Those once a month reminders in the form of pelvic pain and low back pain – like someone’s inside grabbing me tightly – that labor will one day come for me. I’m quick to reach for the ibuprofen. I can do some intense workouts, especially if they’re endurance-based. Still, labor is quite scary. It seems somewhat of a mortifying experience too, if you ask me.

I wonder if having a baby is like having a puppy. I remember that it was both scary and exciting when we were planning to get Billy, our Golden retriever. I did a lot of research. I knew before we got him what I was signing up for – frequent trips outside at every hour of the day for him to potty, vet bills, food costs, time spent training, money for toys, the need to socialize him, and possibly even the need to enlist some help raising him once I went back to work. Yes, I took a week off for puppy maternity leave. His first week with us was a precious time in his life.

When Richard announced he was finally up for getting a dog, I was elated. I had spent years longing for a puppy – seeing other people walking their dogs or posting beautiful family photos of little cuddly puppies and wishing I could have those experiences too. I spent the months before we got Billy preparing for him to come home. I set up his training class and vet appointments before he even came home. We drove an hour and a half on a Friday morning to go get him. My heart melted upon seeing him as a little baby golden fluff ball, just 7 and a half weeks old, weighing in at 7 pounds. We fell in love with him. He continues to steal our hearts, at two-and-a-half years old. Those round dark brown puppy eyes that meet my brown eyes and that long snout with its wet brown tip. His nose is so intricate. Up close it looks like little patches of cobblestone. His nose wiggles conspicuously as he lifts it in the air to take in whiffs of the neighbor’s grilled meats or of lavender from the laundry vent, or from his familiar furry friends nearby. And those puppy paws – so big and floppy, covered with soft spunky puppy fur. I’m not sure he’s fully even grown into them yet. The sound of those clear (and a few black) little toenails across the hardwood floors – “click, click, click.”

I even loved Billy during his awkward moments, hormonal changes, and temper tantrums. He went through a rough phase in which his skin was pink and his hair was coming in in patches also known as thin and sparse. I loved him and supported him as his teeth were falling out. Like a mom overjoyed when her baby says “Mama” for the first time, I was equally enthralled to find little white diamonds – his teeth – on our hardwood floor and in other crevices around the house. I swept them up and put them in a Ziploc baggie, where they remain to this day in the “Billy” folder of the filing cabinet.

A few times in Billy’s toddler stage I really thought I was going to lose my mind. He was a monster when riding in my truck at about 4-6 months old. He’d abruptly lunge forward from the back while I was driving and clamp his sharp puppy teeth into my arm. He was a blonde Cujo. If I reached back to hold him or deter him, he took it as an invitation to keep playing and to play even harder. But ignoring him didn’t work either. A few times I had to actually pull over and tie his leash in a way that he couldn’t reach me. He made me so angry and I felt like I had no control of that little puppy brain. He’d even have his episodes of mischief on some of our early walks together. He’d just randomly start jumping up and attacking me. He seemed to have innate knowledge of where arm bones are most tender when chewed – he would find them on me. One time I tied him to a tree and walked away as he spazzed out. I wonder what the neighbors thought.

E-collars seemed a little harsh. We did venture to a fancy Garmin collar once and I did shock Billy on level 5 or so when he attacked me. He quickly learned that Mama didn’t like that behavior of his. I felt like an evil person for using that collar but it was pretty much a last resort. I did bring Bitter Apple spray a few times – both on car rides and in the truck. I had no reservations about spraying him in the mouth when he jumped up to bite me. He learned quickly. 95% of my puppy rearing technique was positive reinforcement but I did learn that there’s a time and place for negative reinforcement.

I’ve gotta say, that after having Billy for nearly 2 ½ years now, I have no regrets about getting him. I think he is the best dog I’ve ever had. I love him. And I don’t regret giving up the things I did to accommodate for him in my life. I only like to go places that he can come and I don’t like going out at night (i.e., leaving him at home alone at night). My bed has become his bed. My walks (and sometimes runs) are with him. I gladly share my food with him. And I have no qualms about spending money on him. He can’t have too many stuffed animals, different sized and shaped balls, frisbees, shish kabobs, deer antlers, ram horns, and other animal parts to chew on. Our living room often looks like a mine field after Billy’s had a play session. His toys lay scattered about. I’ll gladly spend a Saturday morning taking him to a birthday party or hiking or to the beach. I’ll happily drive out of my way to drop him off a day care. I don’t mind scooping his poop or noticing his drool on my pillow. And puppy fur covers our floors and clothes, not to mention my truck. He doesn’t attack me anymore on our drives or walks. And, he’s earned the affection of my husband.

Billy’s taught me how to possess patience and actually practice it. He’s taught me to absorb life whether sunshine or rain, hot or cold. To plunge into the ocean, to greet everyone with exuberance, to play hard and sleep hard. He’s taught me to love every human – male or female, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, big, small, short, tall, thin, heavy, young, old. And to love them genuinely. He’s taught me to embrace each day with a smile. He’s taught me not to worry about the future but to enjoy right now.

Billy has brought me unspeakable joy. I know a day will come when he’ll rip my heart out. But I’m going to love him while he’s here. And I’m going to give him the best life I can.

Billy was scary at first. He was new territory, and at times a strain on my marriage. He caused me to give up some things. He made plenty of messes as a baby, and still does as a 2 and a half year old. But he’s stolen my heart. I wonder if having a child will be similar. It’s interesting to think that my first child’s life and Billy’s life will overlap. Maybe God has a reason for this. It’s always stood out to me in Genesis 1 that when God made not just the humans but prior to that the animals, He saw that it was “good.”

Richard and I were talking last night, planning for the future like we always do. We were saying that we’ll probably start trying to have a child in the next few years. We’re preparing now for that phase of life – parenthood. I’m sure some parts of me will die and be forsaken. But I suppose that means I’ll gain something in exchange, just like I have with Billy in all that he’s taught me. I think being a mother will somehow bestow on me the  power to love fiercely and unconditionally – to possess a love that will die for another. I’ve heard parents talk about this. I think being a mother will also grant me a steadfast patience, a sense of selflessness that looks reckless to some, and an unquenchable hope for what will be. In having a child, I think Richard and I will learn a ton about the unspeakable love of God for his children – for each of us. Before any of this can happen, we have to kick Billy out of our bed. ~