ode to the kid

On Monday afternoons my son has short, one on one swimming lessons.

Last week the lesson fell on one of the colder days of the year, and the interior room where the swimming pool is felt strangely hot and humid. I helped L get out of all his layers and put on his swimming trunks. Then we took his goggles off and put on his new goggles with the the special farsighted lenses. They are not exactly his prescription, but finally, he does not have to become legally blind every time he gets into the swimming pool. It was a big development, as it has been very disconcerting to try to learn to swim while simultaneously not being able to see.

Then I sat and watched him for the next fifteen minutes, the length of the lesson. And it was lovely. L has become long and lanky in the last year. He is 95th percentile in height, but only 55th percentile in weight. From a distance I could watch his perfect skinny body poised to leap into the pool. His pointy shoulder blades sticking out like little chicken wings. The winter sunlight came streaming throught the window and gave the scene the feeling of a pristine memory; an idealized flashback from a movie.

L is not tremendously coordinated and tends to be tentative, so his jumps into the pool felt gangly and awkward. But he was so proud of himself. "Mom, look at me float all by myself!" "Watch me swim underwater." When he would pop out of the water he would concentrate so hard on blowing air out of his mouth and nose. I could see his confidence growing. His positivity warmed me and removed me from every other worry that I had.

Even watching L talk with his instructor was so beautiful. I couldn't hear what he was saying, but he was so sincere and animated. Their conversations were frequently peppered with high fives as each new miniscule milestone was passed.

As I sat there the word "elegiac" came to me. As though the scene was simultaneously a bittersweet ode to childhood and parenthood. But the definition of that word is more about sadness or death or loss. So elegiac is not quite right. But it's close.

******

I think this is why it's hard for me when people give up on having kids due to infertility and because "adoption is just not for them." Adoption is more complicated and it's harder (which is why the "just adopt" contingent drives me mad. Tell those people people that they'll need to shell out 20k plus, and have their entire lives scrutinized and then wait in limbo with no guaranteed time frame, and see how they feel about "just" doing anything.) As an adoptee I know that adoptive parents take on a special challenge. But so do parents with dyslexic kids, or ADD kids. Lots of kids present special challenges.

But to give up on being a parent (IF that's what you really want), to miss this opportunity to watch a child grow, to never have a child look to you with delight at their accomplishments - I can't stand that people will miss that experience. I realize this is very self-indulgent, because I am assuming that my view and my experience of parenthood is somehow universal. I realize everyone's experience is very different. . So I'll shut up soon. But I do want to say one more thing. When I delight in my son; in his mannerisms, his expressions, his joy and his pride, it has nothing whatsover to do with the fact that he is genetically related to me. I can't even see myself in him anymore, although on occcasion I do see my husband. But that is not where my love comes from. Instead it comes from enjoying the uniqueness of this little person, with his own character, and his own features, and his own personal experiences. He is himself, and that is what is perfect to me.

Comments

[Julianna]

i just adore you

[Orodemniades]

What a lovely post.

[DinosaurD]

You just described how I feel about my son almost perfectly. He is so cool (also 5 years old) that I'm just in awe (and I don't take any credit - genetically or otherwise).
DinoD

[chris]

I wonder that too. It's not appropriate to say that to another infertile, but I do wonder sometimes. Because adoption, despite being more difficult than we all previously believed, is just another path on the road to the same thing--having a child. So I don't get it when people say it's not for them. Why biological but not some other method. I guess they have their reasons.

Your little boy sounds adorable.

[Heidi]

Oh how I love this post. Why? Because Peanut is learning to use a spoon, and every time he gets a gob of food successfully into his mouth, he claps for himself and hoots like an owl.

And I clap and hoot right along with him...and then I think how incredibly lucky I am to witness this amazing thing. My son learning how to use utensils.

Oh, yes, I get it. Completely.

[WG]

Absolutely. I want everyone to have this joy, this wonder, and it hurts to think that people who want that for themselves might not have it. So when we who have children see those who want them, without them, we ache, and we want to offer a way to make it real for them. No, it's not "just" adopt, but I really do want to ask sometimes, Are you looking into it? Are you trying to find other ways to become a parent? The question comes from a good place, but I've never found a good way to ask it.

[Menita]

Beautiful. It is so amazing, so wondrous, so magical. I wish everyone could have this.

[Anna H.]

Oh, how I love your posts, Patricia. This is beautiful.

xxoo

[Vashni]

My daughter is now a little girl. Somewhere in the last 4 and a half years, she became the leggy blond in mismatching outfits. Every day she grows up and away. Everyday I am in awe. Every day I think of the one's that I lost. Every day I get back to work.
I totally and completely get it.

Vashni