Parenthood Intentional

He loved three things alone:
White peacocks, evensong,
Old maps of America.
He hated children crying,
And raspberry jam with his tea,
And womanish hysteria.
… And he married me

Words penned by Anna Akhmatova, a Russian Poet. Words that I simply adore, not particularly because I like Russian Poets, no, because those words convey a sense of understanding between her and the person whom she loved and they are reflective of my life with Suzanne, and I have no doubt, every other person that is married. You see, when you get married you begin to realise that your love for your partner is not just based on commonality but on things you actually don't agree on. It's what makes for enthused debate and it's oft' what brings colour to the relationship. Agreeance (I know, it's not a word, but remember, my blog. So ner.) on everything creates a sort of muted dull pasture for your relationship to graze on and is unlikely to contribute to a fruitful and happy relationship.

But there are exceptions. In my case it was the want for more children. That's children intentional, as oppose to children inherited. I married at 24, which I always felt was the right age, but I had never given much thought as to what age I thought was best to have children. I never felt grown up enough at 24, nor 25, nor 26 for that matter. It began to dawn on me however that it was not a numerical restriction I was facing, it was my own attitude to parenthood and that I felt I was either not ready or perhaps unwilling to take on further commitment. I was holding on to what every boy desperately clings on to; childhood. If I had a child of my own, it meant I will have left something behind. I would become the parent. The prospect of this terrified me. I had lost so much of my childhood owing to domestic carnage in my family and the resulting necessity to completely grow up in my early teens. I was under the notion that I could re-do what I missed. Live out the life I lost. But as time passed I realised that what's behind you is just that; water under the bridge if you will. Time does not stand still for any man, woman, or child, but there is a saving grace. That grace is that becoming a parent doesn't mean you have to properly grow up. It was the visit of my sister in law and her children (and probably more apt, her husband, who is yet to grow up) that convinced me of this. It was then that I made the decision to enter into the realm of parenthood intentional.

A few months passed, then a year, then a year and a few months and it happened. Suzanne fell pregnant. The glee I felt the day she told me couldn't ever be put into words. It's simply something you have to experience for yourself to understand. I was in York, away with work, and I can remember every sight, smell and movement of that moment when she called me. Truly blissful.