Contemplating ghost lives
The last thing I’ll say about having kids for a while – okay no promises
A dear friend sent me an article last week. The ghost ship that didn’t carry us is a beautiful contemplation on the philosophical conundrum I currently find myself in – to breed, or not to breed. I’ll link it here if you want to read it before I spoil the punchline.
The moral of the story was that no matter which path we take, there will always be a ghost ship that sailed – the road we didn’t take; a sister life that could have been but never was. At the end of the day, we will sometimes have questions about what life would have looked like if we had taken that other path, but all we can do is gently smile to that sister life from the place we are standing now. It’s one of the loveliest reflections I’ve read on the topic of having children, and it was very affirming to learn that there are people out there at my stage of life poring over this same decision. (Though it doesn’t feel like so much of a decision anymore - more of an awaiting of fate. I’m standing at the crossroads and letting the universe decide for me, like the famous flipping of a coin; I’m at your mercy, universe. It’s a funny, beautiful, confusing place to be.)
This story made me think about the life I’ve lived so far, and of all the sister lives that could have been. The life where I settled down with my high school boyfriend and had kids young. Where I had so much energy to play with and nourish them. Maybe I still studied and travelled but in a very different way. Where I had to go through all the angst and transformation of my twenties with kids in tow. I wonder if I still would have written and taught yoga, if I’d still live in this beautiful place I call home, or if I’d still be with that man now. It’s such a contrast to the life I did live. Where I studied, travelled, drank myself silly and kissed so many boys. The life where I ended up with the most wonderful man in the world (for me) and feel it in my bones because it took so many stumbles to get there. Where I had so many dream jobs and epic adventures. Where I spent most of my thirties running around after my sister and my nephews and sometimes wondered if that was the best thing to do, but then quickly remembered how much I love them and knew of course - of course it was.
The story also made me ponder the potential lives ahead. Let’s just assume that nothing huge is going to happen to throw a spanner into the works, though I’m aware that that’s completely possible. The life where Jarad and I continue to live child-free. We both keep working and make some more money to fix up the house or buy a new one. Maybe we buy a van and do some travelling. Get another dog, or a cat, or both. Go on nature adventures every weekend. Spend long, slow evenings watching series and giving each other shoulder rubs (maybe in the future I do actually return the favour, Babe). Catch up with friends over food and drinks and talk about the series we’re watching. Spend lazy Sunday afternoons reading, pottering around the house, and drinking cups of tea on the porch whilst watching the birds. Spend the drive home after hanging out with our friends with kids congratulating ourselves for remaining child-free. And sometimes I get really sick or have my period and also feel glad that I don’t have kids and all I have to do is take care of myself (or insist that Jarad does). Sometimes feeling like women pity me for not having any children of my own, sometimes feeling like they envy me. I have time to nourish my relationship with my nephews, feel my heart soar with love for them, and know that I’ll always be available (and have a spare room) when they need me.
Then there’s the life where we do have a kid (or two). That rollercoaster life where most days our hearts explode from happiness and faces hurt from smiling, but we also feel guilty and conflicted and bone tired. Where we experience depths and transformation in our relationship, fight like we’ve never fought before and simultaneously love and hate each other. We teach our child everything that matters to us, take them on adventures, watch them run around with the dog and wonder sometimes if our hearts are actually going to leap out of our chests because we just had no idea what love was before! We live a humble life because being a mum is the most important thing in the world to me, I write about it and maybe host one of those online courses teaching other mums how to look after themselves whilst running around after small humans. My heart breaks every time they push me away but mends when they draw me close, and we play this game over and over again, until they finally leave home and I’m left wondering who I am - again. Staring down yet another crossroad that awaits. After years of prioritising other things, Jarad and I find each other again, get another dog, and watch the birds while we sip our evening hot chocolates on the porch – occasionally wondering (or worrying about) what the kid/s is/are up to.
At the end of your life there’s only the memory of what was, which can be clouded by so many things. You can play out endless scenarios in your mind until you’re not sure what’s fantasy and what actually happened. And so, does it really matter which path you took?