Catholics and kids

So Many Moms and Babies Out There!

Sue Fagalde Lick Catholics and kids, childlessness, mom club, Uncategorized , , , , , , , , , ,

Dear friends,

I was supposed to be in San Antonio, Texas today for the giant AWP writer’s conference, but so many writers, editors and publishers cancelled due to the coronavirus fears that I decided not to go. It no longer seemed worth the time and effort. Judging by the photos published this morning of empty spaces where thousands of wordsmiths would normally be, I’m sure I made the right choice.

I made this decision on the road to the Portland airport, where I had a hotel reserved for their “park and fly” program. I was already on the fence when the friend in Texas I had planned to visit called to tell me not to come. That cinched it. Not going to Texas, but I already had a room in Portland. Might as well spend the night there, right? I had a house/dogsitter taking care of Annie. I had scheduled the week away from all my usual activities. Instead of seeing San Antonio, I would create a vacation right here in Oregon. I would read, write, shop, and visit local attractions.

The Grotto in Portland was beautiful and inspiring as usual. It’s a Catholic shrine and botanical garden full of statues commemorating the lives of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, with a meditation chapel, a church, and a gift shop. No kids, just adults seeking spiritual connections. There was one bump: a plaque on the path to the meditation chapel extols the glories of motherhood. Even here, I thought. But it’s a Catholic place; of course moms are honored. In the gift shop, I saw many books about being a parent, not one about not being a parent, unless you count the biographies of the various saints. I’m pretty sure a lot of the martyrs never had a chance to have children.

Sad, but then again, I was glad not to be Mary and watch my son die nailed to a cross.

It wasn’t until I got to Salem that I became fully aware of how different life is in my Oregon coast town where the average age is well past menopause. Suddenly I was surrounded by young people and their kids. At lunch, a mom sat at the table next to me with six kids. She did a good job of keeping them under control. I watched her show her son how to eat his massive German pancake and felt a little twinge as I ate my BLT alone. I’ll never be surrounded by kids who look like me and whom I can teach everything I know.

Salem, an hour south of Portland, has a wonderful waterfront park that includes miles of walking paths along the Willamette River, plus a playground and a carousel. I watched a father walking with his tiny daughter, so cute. I watched a teenage couple holding hands. I smiled at a guy playing bongo drums. All good, but at the playground, I felt like an outsider. There were all those young moms and all those kids, and it was like I came from foreign country. I had never been part of that group, never would be.

When I was their age, I was a newspaper reporter, walking around in a blazer, carrying a notebook and a camera, watching, never part of the group. I was never the mom pushing her child on the swing. I thought about taking a picture, but these days you can’t take photos of a stranger’s kids without the parents thinking you’re a stalker. I walked past them like a ghost and continued past the indoor carousel, where I didn’t feel the right to go inside since I had no children and I didn’t want to ride the horses myself.

It was still beautiful out there. I had a lovely solo dinner in the hotel restaurant where I watched a group of young men order beers two at a time. No kids. But I still felt the loss. If only . . .

Now, I know if I had children with me, I’d be staying someplace cheaper, if I could afford to travel with them at all, and we’d be eating at the greasy spoon across the street, but there’s no avoiding the feeling of being left out, of having missed something. At home, with most of my friends older than I am, I can avoid it more than you probably can wherever you live. Do you see women with baby bumps wherever you go? Are there parents and little kids everywhere? That makes it ever so much harder.

Is it some kind of blessing that we don’t have kids to worry about during this coronavirus scare? The parents I know always seem to have colds they caught from their kids. Are we safer because of our childless status? Would we rather have the sniffles than be childless?

I’m rambling. I need to get my hotel breakfast before I plunge back into the world of parents and children. Stay well.

 

Where does God fit in the baby decision?

Sue Fagalde Lick Catholics and contraception, Catholics and kids, childlessness and religion, church attendance in the U.S., praying about babies
One of my frequent commenters tugged my heartstrings yesterday with her tale of the marriage that ended with an annulment over the child issue and whose ex—who refused to convert when they were married–has since joined the Catholic church and attends with his new fiancée. He even stands up front and sings solos. This has made it hard for her to keep going to that church. If he had converted when they were married, their story might have turned out quite differently.
I have probably mentioned this before, but I was amazed in researching Childless by Marriage to find that almost no one included religion in their decision-making about babies. How could so few think about God in making this huge decision? I don’t get it.
In the U.S., statistics show that nearly half of Americans report that they go to church every Sunday. But do they really? According to a recent NPR story called “What We Say About Our Religion, and What We Do,” one in five say they aren’t affiliated with any religious denomination, and many of those who say they go to church don’t actually do it. Personally, I know a lot of good people who don’t have anything to do with any kind of religion.
No matter what kind of religion one practices, wouldn’t it make sense to pray, meditate, or light a candle when deciding whether or not to have children? The Bible tells us to “go forth and multiply.” The Catholic faith dictates that married couples must welcome children and raise them in the faith. Most other religions at least preach that babies are a good thing, if not an essential part of life. Yet couples are making this decision without any consideration of their faith.
I’m trying hard not to preach here. I’m as bad as everyone else. Did I pray over it when motherhood was still an option? I don’t think so. Did I use birth control when my church says I can’t? You bet. I may even have asked that I NOT be pregnant a couple times when I was single. Maybe I got what I deserved.
Dear readers, help me understand. Why do so many people leave God out of the baby decision? I know even asking the question could make some readers angry or make them turn away. But I’m asking. Where is God in all of this?

What is the purpose of marriage?

Sue Fagalde Lick basic human needs, Catholics and kids, purpose of marriage

I recently read a blog post that maintained that couples should divorce if they aren’t going to have children–because marriage is all about procreation. Is it? Another post noted that on the Maslow list of basic human needs, finding a mate and parenting are right at the top with food and shelter. However, one could meet the parenting needs with children other than their own. What do you think?

Certainly, many religions believe that married couples are supposed to have children. I’m Catholic, and the vows clearly state that couples will gladly accept children and raise them in the Catholic faith. In fact, I got my first marriage annulled through the church on the grounds that my husband refused to have children. There’s no question about what our church preaches. In fact, at a women’s potluck dinner last week, I was clearly reminded of that fact as I sat like a rock in a river listening to women all around me talk about their children and grandchildren.

But what is the purpose of marriage? When I married Fred, children weren’t foremost in our minds, especially after he told me he didn’t want any more kids. He had three from his first marriage. This marriage was for love, companionship, sex, taking care of each other. We simply wanted to be together. Isn’t that a good enough reason to be married? It occurs to me that Fred had already done the procreation part of life with his first wife. Now, it would seem I had missed my chance. I was supposed to make babies with Jim and I didn’t. But at least I wasn’t alone.

What do you think about all this? I welcome your comments.