Kylie Orr
This week's word is: bifurcate: BYE-fer-kayt; (verb)
Meaning : to divide or cause to divide into two branches or parts
My mum tells me she wanted six children and my father wanted eight. They compromised and had four. Clearly, maths wasn't their strong point. Mum knew after having my younger sister that she was 'done'. My sister seems to think they finally got a perfect one so stopped reproducing. As the older siblings, we kindly set her straight by telling her she ruined it for any future siblings.
There was a four year gap between the last two, which meant mum had three in school when number four came along. Back to night feeds and nappy changes was hard work when she had been out of the habit for so long.
So, that was it for her. My dad was happy for her make the final decision, conceding maternal instinct was a lot stronger than paternal desire. And of course he was more than satisfied with the four healthy (almost perfect) children they had.
The topic stirred my thought gland.
When do you know you're done? And what happens if you're done and your partner is not?
As many of you know, I recently had our third child. A lovely, adorable little boy. He was to be the last. My husband for a long time has said he wanted four children. Like me, he is one of four. Unlike me, he thinks four is a nice, neat, even number.
I always said three was my limit. Too many years of being squished in that middle seat belt in the back seat has scarred me. Having to share two choc wedges between four children while my dad licked a double decker ice cream in a cone was too much to bear. OK, so these examples having nothing to do with being one of four children in this generation but I like to voice them just the same.
Four was out. Three fit comfortably in the back seat of a car; four means hello people mover. Three gives the siblings an option if one of their brothers is driving them berserk. Three is more manageable than four. Three can be afforded; four cannot. These are my rationalisations. Completely irrational really.
So when number three was conceived, I embraced the pregnancy knowing it would be my last. Every backache, wave of fiery heartburn and sweeping all day nausea was enjoyed (well, sort of), knowing this was the final time I would be experiencing it. I completely expected to hold my son, love him immediately and be absolutely satisfied that our family was complete. I did love him immediately. Perhaps a little too much.
It scares the internal organs out of me that I haven't felt that finality I was so expecting once he was born. I wanted to be done. I needed to be done!
I was frightened to mention this to the husband because I didn't want to get his hopes up that four was a possibility. He is a black or white man. We're in for four, or he's getting the snip. Those are the two options.
This wishy washy "I'm not sure" isn't cutting it for him. But the baby is only four months old. And I love babies. I love their floppy-headed dependence, the way they snuggle into your neck, their explosive poos and their gummy smiles. As they reach an age where poos turn 'human' as my husband describes them, they learn to resist, talk back and show cheek, well, I find the job of being a mum a little more trying.
Perhaps that finished feeling will rear it's head when he starts to rear his?
I've seen those mums who are done. They love hearing news of new babies but thank the stars it is not theirs. They enjoy a snuggle with a newborn and gladly hand them back when they squawk.
The idea of a night feed or another nappy change churns their stomach. They are done. They have moved onto the next phase.
I understand the decision about number of children can often be made for you. Health reasons, infertility, partnerships, finances, employment and a plethora of other factors certainly influence the decision.
But what happens when these are not factors and one partner has their heart set on a family of, say three and the other is desperate for four? You can't really have three and a half children as a compromise. Where do you go from here? It is certainly a decision that can bifurcate a partnership. Does someone always have to 'give in', be swayed or talked around? Is one party inevitably disappointed for life?
Some of the women folk I have chatted to about this think the final decision is up to them. Their body therefore their decision. I don't see it quite this clearly.
I truly believe that the father has dreams and ideals of a particular family too and perhaps a bigger family is his desire. Whereas a woman who maybe finds pregnancy a chore or doesn't enjoy being home with young babies is happy to do it once or twice but is then at the end of her patience. Both have a case.
Or if it were the other way and the woman just did not feel finished. That yearning for another baby was there but her partner didn't want any more children. Does she have a greater right to the decision because it is her body? Her yearning? Her desire?
The physical one may outweigh the philosophical one. But who wins in the no-win game? A partnership is exactly that but it doesn't mean these decisions come easily.
By the way, if anyone knows how to bring on that finished feeling, please share!
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