Family SATC-style

I rely on my parents, a lot. Even though they don’t live nearby, my mother is often the first person I go to when things are going wrong. I have close friends, but sometimes there are things I can only tell my mother. When things aren’t going well and when I feel like a failure. I know my parents will love me – no matter what. (After all, that is their job.)

I am sure I rely on them too much, though I suspect this would be different if I had a partner. I suspect those with lovers or husbands or partners arrive home and whinge to them about their day; seek a hug when they are stressed or fraught with despair; or share their tears when they don’t get a job they expected to.

I have some very close friends who know almost everything about my life, but sometimes I don’t go to them. They are mostly there for me, but I am not their priority and sometimes it is too hard to admit failure to those who don’t HAVE to love you.

I have a number of single and married friends in their 30s, 40s and 50s. Some have kids, some don’t. For most of these friends, their families continue to play a major part in their lives. Parents and siblings feature often in our discussions - in both positive and negative ways.

Like me, for some of my closest friends, their parents (mostly mothers and grandmother in one instance) remain confidants, offering constant and unwavering support and comfort.

As well as the emotional support family provides, there is also the practical assistance that comes from being a member of a family. You babysit, even when it is inconvenient and you help out when someone becomes sick. You attend family get-togethers; from celebrations to annoying family requirements. You make an effort even when you don’t want to. After all, when everything else goes to hell in a handbasket, family is all we might have left.

So, this is what I don’t get. They don’t really appear in Sex and the City. Relatives that is. In my recent spate of viewing random episodes on Pay Television, I watched Charlotte marry Trey. She faltered just before walking down the aisle and grabbed Carrie to seek reassurance. Concerns allayed, Carrie disappeared and an older man emerged from the wings and took Charlotte’s arm to walk to her down the aisle. I can only assume this man was her father, or step-father, or equivalent. But there he was – nameless and almost faceless. Was there a mother I wondered? While planning the perfect wedding, I don’t recall Charlotte ever mentioning a father or mother.

I know the show focused on the friendships, but it also focused on the girls’ lives – and I feel like there was a big chunk missing. In some ways the show was a ‘manual’ for living (albeit in a more luxurious, fun-filled, exciting and extreme world). So, while we learned lessons about men, relationships and friendships we were left in idle ignorance when it comes to dealing with our own families.

We meet Trey’s interfering mother and Steve’s annoying mother. I even have a vague recollection of someone’s mother (Miranda perhaps) dying during the series. But even from that episode, what I remember most is the support she gets from the girls, rather than the loss of a mother.

So, where are they the rest of the time? I mean, did Carrie even have parents? I don’t recall them offering support when she had been dumped by “Big” (again and again), or Aidan. Or any consideration of aging parents in her decision to move to Paris? What about the man who walked Charlotte down the aisle? Where was he during her stressful efforts to conceive a child and through her divorce?

So, I am intrigued. Where were their families? Carrie’s, Charlotte’s, Miranda’s or Samantha’s? We had the horror mother-in-laws, so what about the small-town mothers and fathers or siblings, not fitting into the girls’ NYC lives? A few embarrassing relatives wouldn’t have gone astray - but they are largely absent. Why I wonder? Is family not sexy enough for the city?

Did the four girls really emerge from their childhoods unscathed? What about some residual baggage? Sibling rivalries? Or even some backstories to fill in some of the blanks? After all, where did Samantha’s aversion to ‘love’ come from; and why was Charlotte such so desperate for Park Avenue and the perfect family?

Perhaps a prequel is called for?!

Motherhood

I don’t think I would be a bad mother. I mean, I worry about being too self-obsessed, having high standards and about (unsuspectingly and unconsciously) transferring my own neuroses onto a child. But, I wouldn’t hit them, I wouldn’t berate them, I wouldn’t begrudge their existence. I would love them. I expect I would anyway. It is rare to meet someone who regrets having their children. Sure, I realize there are times when parents wish they could lie in on a weekend. Could watch television without interruption, or have a night out occasionally with friends. But, when I look around I mostly only see love. I only see parents who would give everything they have, including their own lives, for their children. I am sure I would be like that.

So why is it that some people don’t want me to be a mother? I don’t think they imagine I would be a bad mother. So, is it fair that I am unable to be a mother because I have no man to love me, to share my dream of parenthood and to impregnate me?

When I imagined my life it wasn’t like this. I wasn’t a single mid-level public servant spending her nights with books and television, paying off a mortgage single-handedly. I was married (or at least partnered, though most likely married in my young fantasies). I had an adoring husband and I had children. I probably also had a fulfilling career – of sorts. Though as a youngster I was never ambitious career-wise, other than teenage dreams of modeling, acting or writing.

But here I am. Forty-one years old and single. Forever single. After a lot of travel (and self-loathing), in my mid-thirties I decided to make a conscious effort to meet someone. A man out there also (even if unconsciously) looking for me. I went out to the pub only to find a few drunken win-ons (well two actually!). I went speed dating. I went to a couple of singles’ functions. I tried online dating. And yet. Here I am. Forty-one years old and single. In my darker moments I despair that I am unloved and unwanted. That I will always be. That I will never experience being in love, and being loved. I will forever yearn for intimacy – not just the physical type, but the more important type. The kind you get from someone who loves you and knows you. The real you. Again I want to ask if that is fair. It isn’t, but I am a contributor to that. I cannot feel rejected, because I have not met someone who I thought I could love, who I wanted to love.

But here I am. I have been waiting for love to find me. I have proactively sought it out. But now I am tired of looking and thinking about it.

But there was more to my dream than that. There was a family. I have never imagined that I would not have children. I have always loved children. I have waited, patiently, for the rest of my dream, so that children may come too. Of course, I realize it isn’t always that easy. For many women and families, children may never come – no matter how much they are desired.

I may sound like a petulant child. But, I don’t think it is fair that I cannot be a mother, that I cannot have a child, just because I have no husband. No partner. I have contemplated this for many years. I didn’t think it would come to this. But I have to make a decision. I am 41-years old. It may already be too late.

I have contemplated the financial implications. A single woman, working to pay off her mortgage. Can I afford to have a child? Can I even afford to get impregnated? What it keeps coming back to for me is…. cannot I afford not to try? Can I afford to reach 50, 60, 70 years of age and live constantly in regret of lost love. Love that was never experienced, but was there to give.

I cry as I write this. But the decision is no longer an emotional one. I have thought about this constantly. I have stressed over taking a 3-month old child to daycare at 7am; working all day. Picking them up at 6pm, tired and exhausted. Only to have the child cry through the night. Perhaps it would not be like this. But I expect the worst. My niece did not sleep through the night until she was 2-years old, so I suffer no delusions about a 2-month old child sleeping through the night. Perhaps I can take 6 months off work. I can downgrade my home. I can budget accordingly. After all, people with far less than I, make it happen.

So, despite everything, I have started the process. I now need to make some final decisions. How far am I prepared to go? Emotionally and financially, to make my dream a reality?

I am saddened by the lack of support from those who are supposed to provide it unconditionally. I have doting parents. My only valentine’s day card is from my mother who writes, “I am sure (and hope) that you know how very special you are to us. May your year be a special one and may you find joy and much satisfaction in all parts of your life.”

But, my mother has been unfailingly negative about this since I first raised it several years ago. I know she will come around. It isn’t ‘how’ I am doing it. But that I am doing it at all that worries her. Last night she told me that she hoped I realized that I would get no support from my brother and sister-in-law, and that my brother in fact asked her at Christmas to talk some sense into me on this issue. I am not sure whether their concerns relate to me being able to manage financially, or is about the burden of being a single parent. I cannot believe they would think that I have not considered these things in making my decision.

I had already decided not to tell my brother and sister-in-law anything until there is no going back. I am occasionally surprised by their support, but unlike my parents, they are rarely there for me on an emotional level. I never tend to count on them for that type of support. And, my brother is perhaps the one person in my life who I can love and hate with equal passion.

My friends, however, are unfalteringly there for me. They were surprised that I went through with the research and even made appointments. I am typically apathetic. But, this is different. This is important. This is my life.

The next step is the key one. It is the one where I take that leap. I don’t know what will happen after that. Perhaps nothing but disappointment and devastation. There will be no going back. But, at least there will be no regrets.