Motherhood: My Opportunity Cost

Do I want to be a mother? I have blogged about the topic before; it is a life decision that I often revisit. Deeper into the throes of my twenties and I find it necessary to make an informed decision and move forward. To do so, I have to have brutally honest conversations with myself about the direction my life is going and the direction I want it to go.

What's my God-given purpose?

Who am I?

Why do I behave and think as I do?

What do I love doing?

When and how do I plan on changing what I CAN change?

What city will I settle in?

When will I finish my degree?

Will I need more schooling?

How will I pay off all of my debt?

How long will it take to raise and stabilize my credit score?

Which job should I take?

Where is my relationship going?

Do I really want to be married again?

Do I want be a mother?

While I do not have all the answers, I have decided that I do not want to a mother.

I do not think the reasons for or against the decision to become a parent are universal. My logic may not apply to all or most people. That's okay. I know I am making a well-informed decision about motherhood and my life. I know my decision will help me be fair and transparent. Knowing

my stance gives me an opportunity to have an honest and open conversation with my partner who may or may not decide my life decision is right for him.

Because of my past baby fever bouts, obsession with baby names, and indecisiveness on this issue, I know some of my family members and friends are going to dismiss this as another phase. I know there will be those who will say this decision will change in time. I know someone, in an attempt to be encouraging, will assure me that I'll be a good mother.

I disagree. This is my truth and ultimately my decision. Here, in no particular order, are some of the reasons I am choosing not to be a mother.

Mental Health:

I have an ongoing struggle with depression and anxiety. In the past, I have considered suicide. (Thank God, that's no longer the case.) I do not always cope with life and stress in a healthy way. While I hope these are issues I will overcome in time with prayer,  counseling, and better choices, I don't want to take the risk. I know how hard it can be on the people who know me best and love me. 

I Am Difficult To Live With:

This is an unflattering fact. Ask my parents, brothers, ex-husband, and current boyfriend. I am particular. I can be direct and stern. I am opinionated and argumentative. Most difficult for me to openly admit is the ugly truth that I am often on the border of mean and rude, and I can be an aggressive bully. If I am a challenge for adults who deal with me on a full-time, daily basis, how would a child fare?

 I have never mistreated a child, and I would never mistreat a child. I genuinely love children. I have, however, mistreated people I loved. While I strive to be a better person, to be a consistently kind, tender, affectionate, patient, loving person, I am often the opposite. If I do not live harmoniously with myself and the adults in my life, I still have a lot of learning and growing and humbling to do.

Finances:

Being completely transparent, my finances cannot support a child. At 26, I am still in the building phase. I do not know if this is normal or not, but I do know I could not provide for a child in the way that I would hope. I have credit card debit, student loans, a car payment, car insurance, health and dental insurance, rent, renter's insurance, a phone bill, internet, fuel, Netflix, Hulu, and so on and so forth.

After I am finished building and finally able to afford to splurge on all the things I'd like to, I have already mentally committed myself to other financial responsibilities. I want to be positioned so that my brothers always have someone they can come to when a need arises. I want to be able to take good care of my parents when they can no longer do for themselves. I am an auntie-to-be, and I plan on playing an active role with my niece.  (I'd like to be able to do generously for all my future nieces and nephews.)

There are so many people I'd like to invest time and resources in, and I want them to stay a priority.

Selfishness:

Truth be told, I think my life has been had more bad days than good thus far, and I'd like to think things will get easier. I have faith that they will. I believe I will reach a place where I am comfortable in my own skin, comfortable in my finances, doing what I love, travelling often, and really, really, enjoying my life. During this time, I want only to have to consider my wishes and well-being and the wishes and well-being of my significant other. That's selfish; I know. It may even be reprehensible to some, but it's true for me.

I want to practice generativity and participate in volunteerism. I want to be a generous, caring individual. I want to contribute to society in a positive, tangible way. I want to work hard and build a fruitful, long-lasting career. I also want to be able to come home at day's end and do absolutely nothing if I so desire. I want to sleep in when I want to. I want to be able to go and come as I please.

Speaking of Work:

I enjoying working and I haven't even gotten settled into a career. As an hourly employee, I pride myself on dedicating myself to work. I actually like working six or seven days a week. I like being flexible, the ability to work as late as needed, and the freedom to work as much as I'd like. I know this will go into overdrive when I become a salaried employee/ obtain a leadership role and eventually own my business. (I have several business ideas that I'd like to see actualized.)

I know many women balance their professional and family lives well. I know motherhood and a career are not mutually exclusive. It's just my preference not to have this particular challenge.

Single Parenthood:

Frankly, I am afraid of single parenthood, and I have no desire to ever be a single mother. I know many wonderful single parents, including my own mother, and this is no slight to them. I admire their strength.

There are no guarantees. Relationships fail. I've been married and divorced, so I know marriages fail. (Second marriages have an even higher rate of divorce than first marriages.) Even if I am in a successful marriage, something could happen beyond control, and I could end up a single parent. Death is often unexpected.

Due to my personal experiences and observations of others, I would want my children raised in a loving, stable home with two mentally, emotionally, spiritually healthy parents. There is always a chance it will not happen that way, and I am not willing to take the risk.

Solitude:

In the words of a fellow blogger:

"I am a nasty sort of introvert who occasionally needs everyone and everything to just f*** off for a while and let me watch twelve consecutive episodes of 'MasterChef: Canada' in peace while I nurture the last remaining ember of my sanity and patience back to a sustainable smolder." I need solitude. I value quiet and stillness. I think it would be unreasonable and wrong to infringe on a child's right to be a child or access to his/her parent whenever my need for absolute stillness arises.

Finally:

I firmly believe children are gifts from God. I believe they are never "accidents," and it is an honor to be parent. There are so many good, invested, loving parents, and I am grateful for the role they play in shaping the future generations. It is truly admirable. My decision not to be a parent is not a condemnation of those who are parents. I want to stress that.

Motherhood is a choice.

 I know by forgoing it, I'll be missing out on many cherishable things. "Opportunity cost," an economic term I learned my freshman year of college (shout out OPSU), keeps flashing through my mind as I write this post. It seems so applicable here.

Motherhood has value; it will always be, an opportunity cost for me. I am choosing an alternative path. I choose to give up motherhood and its benefits, both perceived and actual, to pursue a different course for my life. And, there's nothing wrong about that. 

It does not have to be a popular, well-embraced decision to be the best decision for me.

Unnecessary Insults: Three

Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding."

While the well-known verse from Proverbs offers sound advice, I am not always keen on getting an understanding, particularly an understanding of my parents. My mom and dad have been at the receiving end of some harsh, expressed and unexpressed feelings and judgments.

When I perceived either of them (1) hurt me and negatively (2) affected me, (3) influenced who I am, or (4) interfered with my goals, their actions fell into an unacceptable zone where I was not concerned about the why. Exercising selfishness and hypocrisy, I created utility in every negative experience, allowing them to become integral parts of the narrative I tell about myself. After all, they provide solid explanations for my bad behaviors. I always seek to better understand myself and help others understand me.

I cannot minimize how I harped,  internally of course, on my dad's incarceration. We are 16 or 17 years post his release, and his fall into the "unacceptable zone" is still a factor. In fact it was a central theme behind the first Unnecessary Insults post I wrote. In the most nuanced ways, I felt his nine or ten year absence due to incarceration.

I recently watched Director Ava Duvernay's documentary, 13th. If you have not saw it, I strongly recommend you watch it. (It's available on Netflix.) Although I was not looking for one, this documentary provided a context for my dad's incarceration. It prompted me to do my research. Among other topics, I decided to research my dad's criminal history, and I purchased the $3.32 public record criminal record.

His record revealed two arrests.

He was arrested on March 14, 1990 in Hunt County for failure to identify, a misdemeanor. His second arrest occurred on August 7, 1990 in Sulphur Springs of Hopkins County, Texas. My dad, 19 years old at the time, was sentenced to 35 years for Burglary of a Habitation, a felony offense.

And, it all connected.

The "War on Crime" and mass incarceration explored in 13th documentary and my dad's accounts of his experiences, previously discounted by me, made sense.

I believe in upholding the law. If anyone, including my loved ones, commits a crime, punishment is indeed warranted. However in my dad's particular case, I am not and cannot be convinced that 35 years was a proportionate punishment. To be clear, I am not objective, but  I do not believe those who dispensed "justice" showed objectivity in his case either.

For the first time, I genuinely understand my dad. I cannot claim to understand what it's like to spend ten years in prison, "a system, some say, is designed to break individuals within 60 days." I cannot claim to understand what it's like to be on parole for twenty-five years and disenfranchised for a lifetime. I cannot understand what it's like to grow up behind bars and miss some of the most significant moments of your life and your children's lives. I can say that I have finally given my dad the consideration he deserves. I considered his past and present experiences and his current worldview with the goal of understanding.

Prior to watching this documentary that I felt so personally, I attributed my dad's actions at 19 years of age to poor choices. His consequences, then, were the result of HIS poor choices. In this view, my sisters and I were the victims of his crime. Most insulting to my dad, from my now soften perspective, is the fact that I never considered the political agenda or racial inherences of 1990s and prior decades. I never felt the need to research his criminal record or question his case because I had no curiosity that need satisfying. Just like the politicians and the justice system, I adopted a "tough on crime" attitude and relegated him with prejudice.

Emotional and sympathetic, I immediately attempted to get my dad on the phone.

Unnecessary Insults: Two

Do I want children?

I have always and will always have the answer to that question. Yes! Yes, I WANT children. I desire to have a child. I've, at various points, wished for a child. I love children. Rather I become a mother or not, I believe I will always have some degree of want for a child. Wanting a child is not the issue.

Will I be a good mother?

This is the question that causes the most angst. I can be somewhat of a mess. I have my issues, intricacies, and incongruences. I can have the best intentions and still not produce. I have said and did things that hurt people I love. I am difficult to live with. I am too stubborn, particular, and serious. I am me, and I am self-aware. When I examine myself fully, considering both my good and bad qualities, I cannot answer this question definitively.

Baby fever and parental fear have been concomitantly present in my adult life. The idea of being a catalyst for life, loving, teaching, and being connected to someone as a mother parallel to the fear of being a "bad" parent, passing down undesirable traits and habits, and hurting, in anyway, the child(ren) God entrusted me to care for has waged an emotion versus logic debate within myself.

Marriage was the deciding factor. When I became a wife, I experienced a raging case of baby fever. I definitely wanted a baby and motherhood.

I must have spent hundreds of dollars on pregnancy tests. I toyed with babies names. I would drag my then husband to the baby section of stores. I campaigned relentlessly for Baby McDonald. We were married. We would have a two parent household. (I didn't have that and most certainly wanted it for my future children.) We actually could support a child financially. Our parents would be active grandparents; we wouldn't even have to worry about childcare. Their first grandchild! I read lots of articles; everything doesn't have to be perfect.

In hindsight, thankfully my ex-husband was unwavering. In our three year course of marriage, I did not have a pregnancy or child.

Now, you can imagine how incredibly flabbergasted I was on Saturday, November 28, 2015 when I found out I was pregnant. Post separation from my husband, with an impending divorce; a single woman in a single income household, and I was pregnant. Nothing was according to my plan. The examination of every circumstance seemed to validate my fear of parenthood.

Even in the presence of that fear the baby fever and excitement would not subside. I immediately began planning life adjustments for Baby McMillian. No, everything was not ideal, but it had finally happened. I was pregnant! Afterall, I've always wanted a child. Wouldn't I do everything necessary to be a good mother?

On Saturday, December 5, 2016, exactly one week later, I had a spontaneous abortion. I was six weeks pregnant when I miscarried.

It was one of the most bizarre emotional weeks of my life. I couldn't help but feel like the target of an unkind joke. Most insulting to me, however, is that the experience did not resolve the baby fever or eradicate the parental fear.

Do I want children?
Absolutely.

Will I be a good mother?
Sighs...

Anxiety Suffered Casualties

I have Generalized Anxiety Disorder. In most areas, my anxiety is manageable. In some areas, it can be debilitating. Driving fell in the latter category, and the act accompanied by level of anxiety that had physical manifestations.

Most people are probably thinking: "Grow up, Kechia." Lol. I get that. However, anxiety is pretty common as it affects about 3 million people. For people who have severe anxiety, even tasks that are simple to others can present real challenges.

While I was always apprehensive about driving, I had a car accident in 2012 that worsened the issue.

I was driving to church on a Tuesday. Initially, I didn't want to drive, but I did so anyways. I drove safely, and much to my relief, the church was within sight. I was filled with the most temporary relief. A moment later, as I was turning into the narrow roadway to enter the church property, I had a car accident. The car was flipped upside down and totaled. And, I had the biggest panic attack I've had to date. It may seem trivial, but it was one of the worst days of my life.

Everyone said that particular unpaved road had been problematic. Most people said it was an accident waiting to happen. The city even closed and reconstructed the road in that area. None of that knowledge helped me.

From the date of that accident until about June 2015, I attempted to drive only a handful of times. Each time was characterized by heightened fear and anxiety.

I said all of that to put this milestone into its proper context. On January 30, 2016, I got a car. It was a better car than I planned to get, and it was much needed. (Uber, Lyft, and my transportation costs [without a car payment and insurance] required a ridiculous percentage of income each month.)

In all honesty, up until this point, I had not shared a picture of my car because I still was not driving. I was still allowing the anxiety to hinder me.

Yesterday, I drove from Garland to Greenville by myself. I drove to several places in Greenville. I drove back home today. I drove 100 plus miles, and I did so semi-independently. (My best friend, Errian, was on the phone via the car's Bluetooth. He helped a sister combat the anxiety whenever it reared its ugly head.)

I do not care if this is insignificant to most people. It is not for me. This exacerbated-anxiety-while-driving situation has caused me much embarrassment, frustration, and sadness. It has been the biggest hindrance to autonomy. Everyday that I drive, I reclaim a piece of my freedom back. Yesterday and today, I feel like anxiety suffered casualties. I am tearfully happy about this.

First and foremost, thank you, Jesus!
Special thanks to my Mama, Flanigan, and TeAnn!

Unnecessary Insults: One

“You didn’t come with a manual, LeKechia.”

My dad, in an almost apologetic manner, reminded me that being my father was as difficult as being his daughter. Our relationship was tumultuous, and we were both charting unfamiliar territory. Whenever he said it, I would, for a fleeting moment, feel as sorry for him as I did for myself. That compassion quickly dissipated as I resigned to the fact that he was too proud to be apologetic. 

I am certain that there is something innate within my father that won't allow room for regrets. I am also certain that that something comes from the same brand of pigheadedness I, unfortunately, find myself unable to contain.  In any case, I could not trust my intuition because my perception of him tended to be overly harsh. So the part of me that loved and yearned for a healthy father-daughter relationship would not allow any concrete resolve about his character.  

While he has never verbalized it, I am certain that on some level he resents me as much I resent him. He felt and expressed that he did his best as a father. I did not agree. I saw conceit where he found satisfaction. He had disdain where I placed value. We, on so many issues, on the issues of most importance, were polar opposites.

On many occasions, he would remind me that I was not an “accident;” that he and my mom planned to have me. As he  proudly recalled the events surrounding my conception, I quietly reeled from an overwhelming combination of relief and offense. A sixteen year old and a nineteen year old decided to bring life in this world without the preparation, maturity, and resources required for the undertaking. They actually thought it was a good idea!

I still have not decided if I prefer my existence being the result of foolish mistake or a foolish decision. And, I cannot help but think that the latter is worse. Most insulting to me is the reality that shortly after my conception my dad would engage in an affair with Texas Department of Criminal Justice. He was not present for my birth. He did not sign my birth certificate. He was incarcerated for the first nine years of my life. Despite all of the effort we both feel we gave over the years, we have yet to reach a place of mutual understanding. 

My parents made one of hell of a decision that affected all of our lives and the essence of who I am. I do not think I fully forgave them for being ignorant and young until life taught me that I am not above youth and ignorance. Maybe my father did try his best.

"Keep on living, Baby."

Another one of his mantras accosting me...

Damn. 

Celebrate Others

Divorcing? Celebrate other's marriages.

Jobless? Celebrate other's promotions.

Sad? Celebrate other's happiness.

Broke? Celebrate other's wealth.

Childless? Celebrate other's children.

Unmotivated? Celebrate other's determination.

Sick? Celebrate other's health?

Lost? Celebrate other's purposes.

I am learning that I can be GENUINELY HAPPY for others WHILE working through my own negative experiences and/or feelings. I've found it to be a beautifully rewarding thing. It is minimizes selfishness. It blots out comparisons. And, it helps me to stay focused on where I'm headed not where I've been or where I am currently.

I refuse to avoid or disconnect from people because they are experiencing growth in an area where I am having a drought. And, I will not feel embarrassed or mimimized about where I am in my journey.

We should actually surround ourselves with people who are_____, have done _____, obtained _____, accomplished _____, have _____, etc. (The blanks are different for all of us.)

Follow them on social media. Meet up with them.
Ask them questions. Take their sound advice.
Be encouraged by their accomplishments.
Celebrate the goodness in their lives.

There are people out here who have been grinding hard and consistently to realize the vision they have for themselves and their lives. There are people who are making good choices and sacrificing while thinking about their long term objectives; people who have been praying, fasting, seeking God to see their promises fulfilled. There are people have went through some major hell and overcame defiant obstacles to get to where they are.

How can you hate on that?
Why would you want to?

Check yourself, humble yourself, and celebrate someone.

Life Lessons from a Smoke Detector

I've been living in my apartment for about 7 months now. At some point my bedroom's smoke alarm began beeping, but I never attended to it. I completely tuned it out.

Recently, during two separate phone conversations with two different friends, I was told I need to change the smoke alarm batteries. To them, the beeping was loud and annoying.

I hadn't notice.

For an uncertain duration of time, I became accustomed to a noise that alerts me something needs attention. Something needs to change.

This morning I was awakened, literally and figuratively, by that beeping. When I tried to go back to sleep, I could not. It seemed to have gotten louder. It must have. There is no way I could have ignored this nerve-wracking  sound for 7 months.  I am bothered that I chose to endure the signal rather than rather than make the necessary changes. (I should have changed the batteries. I should have replace the device if the smoke detector's life has ended.)

That pestering smoke alarm beeping has been such a reality check this morning. While reality checks can be rude and harsh, they are necessary.

#knowbetter #dobetter
#DoNotIgnoreTheWarningSigns