So, a couple of weeks ago, I picked up the book Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. I must say that I am thoroughly enjoying it. I just finished the "Eat" section and have recently started the "Pray" section.
For those of you who know nothing about this book, Elizabeth Gilbert goes through a divorce and then decides to spend a year visiting Italy, India, and Indonesia and she writes a book about her experience in each of these 3 countries and how the time she spent in each of these countries shaped her in some way.
I don't want to spoil anything for anyone, but a passage of this book really spoke to me. I dog eared the page and I have returned to it several times to read it again. I think it will speak to all of you as well, and I wanted to share it.
Elizabeth and her ex-husband never had children. As she reflects on the differences between her sister and herself and the massive changes in her life caused by her divorce, she reflects on her place in the family.
To create a family with a spouse is one of the most fundamental ways a person can find continuity and meaning in American (or any) society. I rediscover this truth every time I go to a big reunion of my mother's family in Minnesota and I see how everyone is held so reassuringly in their positions over the years. First you are a child, then you are a teenager, then you are a young married person, then you are a parent, then you are retired, then you are a grandparent - at every stage you know who you are, you know what your duty is and you know where to sit at the reunion. You sit with the other children, or teenagers, or young parents, or retirees. Until at last you are sitting with the ninety-year-olds in the shade watching over your progeny with satisfaction. Who are you? No problem - you are the person who created all this. The satisfaction of this knowledge is immediate, and moreover, it's universally recognized. How many people have I heard claim their children as the greatest accomplishment and comfort of their lives? It's the thing they can always lean on during a metaphysical crisis, or a moment of doubt about their relevancy - If I have done nothing else in this life, the at least I have raised my children well.
But, what if, either by choice or by reluctant necessity, you end up not participating in this comforting cycle of family and continuity? What if you step out? Where do you sit at the reunion? How do you mark time's passage without the fear that you've just frittered away your time on earth without being relevant? You'll need to find another purpose, another measure by which to judge whether or not you have been a successful human being. I love children, but what if I don't have any? What kind of person does that make me?
I know that she isn't necessarily speaking of infertility, but she might as well have been - which is obviously why this spoke to me. This describes to me the panic each of us faces every day that we worry about what happens if we don't ever make it to parenthood. You can substitute family reunion with class reunion or birthday party or any other event where people gather, and it would still ring true.
We all wonder what our lives will be if we never make it to parenthood. I hope we never have to find out.
