Darren Barefoot, purveyor of Flowers for Al and Don and other wonderfulishness, posted in his blog:

Parents talking about giving birth sound to me like the newly-converted talking about their faith. Both groups frequently remark that it’s “the best thing that ever happened to me” or “the most important event in my life”. Yet, I’m rarely able to distill why how that’s the case. I don’t mean to demean either experience. Rather, I’m just describing my vexation at being on the outside and not being able to see in.

There was much commentary. I commented this (oh, how I fail short answer questions):

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I wanted (one) kid because I genuinely like children, and had done A LOT of childcare in various capacities over the years. Also because I have hope for the world: I see Julie’s point, but I also see the civil rights movement, the general consensus being established that murder and slavery is a bad thing, the women’s rights movement, all the people who *didn’t* vote for Bush, the Underground Railway and… And I’m a PollyAnna.

HOWEVER: Having a child was completely different than looking after other people’s children. Not at all what I had expected. As I said, I’d done tons of childcare, even over extended periods of time, and I was shocked at the differences. So, you may say that my Planned Parenthood shocked and thrilled me by being Not At All What I Had Planned.

So, why are we (Parents) largely on the same “best thing that ever happened to me?” page? Well, because it is the best thing that ever happened.

But here:

1st) There’s biology at play, for sure. I’ve never met a drug or activity that has reproduced the rapture? of love for my little guy.
It would be like explaining falling in love to someone who hasn’t, or explaining lust to someone who hasn’t gone there – just plain hard to describe without waxing poetic.

2nd) I have also used the “programming an artificial intelligence” metaphor in my son’s earlier years. There’s something creative in parenting that is unmatched – and I have been a creative person in other venues. It’s also WAY more challenging than a knotty sentence or a note hit off-key.

3rd) Common Culture. The construction of family is a powerful cultural activity: I think it’s why the Christian Right gets all uppity on the family values plank. If you can remember being a child of a young enough age, you might identify feeling surprised that the rest of the world wasn’t identical to your family… (Which may have been good or bad.) I’m creating the WHOLE WORLD to my son: the map upon which he’ll evaluate all other ideas. One of my goals is that he’ll be able to challenge the “hegemony” I’ve constructed – I’m trying to build questioning into the fabric.

4th) Surprise and Mystery. Unlike with an adult, a kid isn’t fully ‘completed’. So, I know what my friends and my husband will most likely say. Not so with my son, who thrills me continually with uninhibited, questioning views of things we assume. A kid has no prejudice about anything except his/her need for his/her parent: the sun may not come up tomorrow, gravity may not be a constant, it’s all magic. A parent is continually surprised that this person that they love so much is largely unknown. It’s a lifetime journey of finding on both sides.

5th) I’m not from a Christian faith, but still. It’s a miracle. It’s a communion. Yes, it’s commonplace – any cat or cockroach can also have progeny. “Little angels” can grow up to be Stalin.
However, whether you look at it as emergant evolutionary structures or something from a higher power, when you have a kid you’re physically confronted with the biggest mystery of all. Why are we here? Why, kid, are you here? And where the hell did you come from? My UTERUS? Shut up. Really? Even though I’m of the Science Tribe, I am AWED by the fact that it’s possible that some random molecules decided to start evolving to put us all here. My son really connected me to that awe.

6th) Not being the center of your own universe. It’s amazing. I’ve had (as do a lot of new moms), to get more of myself back, but the fundamental definition of who I am underwent the biggest flux it’s ever sustained. And it was a good thing.

Awe, wonder, mystery, surprise, love, challenge, culture, creativity, more love, frustration, excitement, satisfaction, and good old fun ( I haven’t been trick or treating in years ), and that’s why I’m a parent.

Each parent experiences these things differently. Some people don’t really want to be parents: I’m not of the mind that people should have children if they don’t want to. It is the hardest job I’ve ever taken on, by a long shot; personally I’ve been *forced* to grow (no weekends off), and you’re constantly aware of being seen as the omnipotent, omniscient Parent and trying really really hard not to screw up.

Still, it’s the best thing that ever happened to me.

I *do* wish that more of the folks I respect (intelligent, loving, open-minded, world-thinking people) who are a little older would get into it, just so that I have interesting people to talk to at play group.

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On thinking further about it, though, I wonder if this is so much self-serving bull.

I’ve got solidly non-monogomous people in my life. When they look at monogomy, they feel like it’s a societally programmed institution that curtails their freedoms and wrecks their lifestyle and possibly their pocketbooks. And further, it makes the participants possessions.

Well, okay. That’s fine for them. I could answer how monogomy works for me, but seriously, I just prefer it. It’s an emotional argument more than a logical one. I have a list of logical reasons, but they’re masks for the fundamental premise that I just don’t wanna ~ my brain and libido, both of which could see arguments for cattin’ around, are trumped by a visceral no thanks reaction. I’m in a great relationship. The emotional intimacy of long-time is more satisfying for me than otherwise, and my brain and libido aren’t comprimising anything.

Similarly, my brain and my caretaking drive can construct reasons why I love being a parent, and why it’s the best thing that’s happened to me, but really? Really?

Just ‘cuz. I like it that way. It’s good for me. I like chocolate ice cream, too.