Meditation on Expectations

Diana wrote the following earlier this year but forgot to post it....

Almost a year and a half ago, I was handed my infant nephew for the first time. As first impressions go, his was awe-inspiring in the way that babies tend to be. He was a-ma-zing and in that moment, that first quick impulse, my first thought was, “You are going to make the handsomest & smartest Harvard College president ever, why yes you are.” I believe that I may have even spoken those words out loud, in the midst of that first cooing fest.

My second thought ran something along the lines of, “where did that come from?!?!?” Which, thankfully, I definitely did NOT say out loud in front my brother & his wife.

This is not to say that my nephew isn’t going to be handsome, ‘cuz he’s already got numerous people wrapped around his adorable little finger.

And this isn’t to say that he couldn’t grow up to be the president of Harvard and be marvelous for the institution and remembered for all of history as the best and the brightest.

What was so discombobulating to me was my instantaneous transformation from a laid-back, come-as-you-are hippie-esque aunt to a prestige-fanning, high-demand ivy league aunt whispering a very specific set of expectations into my infant nephew’s ear. For goodness sake, I didn’t even have the decency to let the boy display a propensity towards anything before wishing a particular future onto his little life.

In that moment I understood how parents (and care-takers of all kinds) could amass expectations of the loftiest kind for children under their care. Unbidden, perhaps even unspoken, these goals and dreams of specific kinds of happiness and fulfillment have an existence all of their own.

As I look towards the future of my own parenting adventure, I am wary of this instinct towards expectations that I have uncovered in myself. I found have myself purposefully courting acceptance of the unknown-ness of what is & what will be – from labor & delivery to those first few weeks of parenthood and beyond. I can’t possibly know how I am going to react to those first contractions, what position the baby will be in when those contractions start, how easily (or not) he will traverse the birth canal, or any of the other variables that come with the birth process.

From everything that I have heard, kids are determined to have a life and a mind of their own, so any expectations I may build – consciously or no – will most likely be shattered along the way. So rather than mourning these expectations, rather than lamenting that “this [whatever this is in front of me] isn’t the way it was supposed to be”, I hope that I can be the type of mom that feels of the gifts of her children’s explorations, that is open to the always unfolding of that which is and that which will be.