Parent Brain and Childbirth

There seems to be a great divide between the married with children and those of us who have so far managed to avoid said situation thus far. Now whether this void is caused by jealousy on either side is not for me to determine, but I certainly can vouch for the unburdened masses when I say that there is something very different between the two groups.

Parent Brian is that state in which most parents are forever trapped. I gave an example earlier, and now I feel the need to expound on this topic. As I mentioned, one of the side effects of Parent Brain is the complete and utter lack of understanding about how a non-parent feels with regards to the subject of childbirth. Now understand that this is not a rule, perhaps it is an exception, but it is such a glaring exception that I feel it must be addressed. I am talking about the actual act of childbirth.

Those who have never seen a childbirth (specifically those of us who closed our eyes during that particular video in grade 9 gym class) are at a great disadvantage when it comes to overhearing the process relayed from one mother to another. However, it is another matter entirely when a mother attempts to tell us the story firsthand.

Before I launch into that story, I would like to clarify a few things. But be warned…beyond this point be adult subject matter…

First of all, I would like to quote Bill Hicks, whose untimely death is lamented by many. An unmarried man, with an almost unlimited scope of imagination and acerbic comments had this to say about a woman’s vagina. When unburdened by childbirth, it is like ‘a papercut surrounded by wisps of cotton candy’. Now, with that image in mind, turn your thoughts to how a man who is used to this sort of visual would react to a woman saying ‘I only ripped two inches’ during childbirth. Imagine the man being faced with the prospect of being cornered by a new mother showing pictures of the baby, only to find that she slipped in the pictures of the actual childbirth…ripping and all.

Now I am not one to easily shy away from the macabre, but I wouldn’t want to see my friend’s wife’s vagina on a good day. Let alone seeing a bone-white 8” head sliding through the fun canal causing ripping along the way. I don’t ask my friends to see pictures of a massive dump I may have taken the night before, indeed, I rarely take pictures of this event to begin with.

And it’s not just the pictures of the event, but how parents speak so openly and plainly in public forums about the placenta, the blood, the ripping and the emptying of the bowels. This is not something that needs to be shared, and again, shows the Parent Brain in action. On behalf of all non-fathers in the world, I would petition that these conversations be outlawed altogether. Free Speech be damned…this is not something you need to hear on the GO Train on the way home from work. You may be proud to be a mother, but you certainly don’t need to inform a train full of commuters that you refuse to eat bran because of all the stitches you have. That visual is not needed.

But the insanity does not stop there. The Parent Brain, like a virus-infested zombie of Parenthood's brain, keeps seeking to contaminate other healthy brains. Once we have passed the actual birth experience, and managed to avoid pictures of the gaping chasm of birth, we move on to the other conversations. The topic of Parent Brain and feces is a whole story unto itself, but I would like to address the topic of irregularities in the child's life. I was at a Chantal Kreviazuk concert a while ago, when she stopped singing and started talking about how wonderful her child was. To be expected from a new mother, I suppose, even if we did spend $100/ticket. But then, even for a seasoned professional, the Parent Brain kicked in. She started talking about his rashes, and how his penis and scrotum were covered in a rash...and how she had become the ultimate knowledge guide of children's penises. This is on YouTube...have a look for it. It's sad to see such a veteran performer fall to such depths of depravity...but this is just one example what the Parent Brain will do to a normally healthy person. Now a new parent may think 'well, this is normal! We all talk that way!', but I beg of you...look into your past...this was never a topic for conversation in public. It is simply the insanity taking hold of you.

So from the perspective of the progeny-less majority, we would like to beseech all mothers…please remember how you would have felt pre-child to hear these sorts of stories. I know the Parent Brain has kicked in, but it really is not necessary, and if at all possible, use what little rational thought that is left in your Parent Brain to remember that we really really don’t need to hear this.

Musings - By Z

I’m not sure I ever wanted kids, I just knew that it was something you did somewhere in between getting your diapers cleaned for you as a child and then again in a nursing home. Maybe it’s a human condition in which we always need to be cleaning a diaper – our own or otherwise, but I digress. I just figured that I’d be having kids. And as I went through life, I realized that there are a LOT of fun things to do that don’t involve children. Things like, EVERYTHING! You can sleep, eat, bathe, drink and generally behave like an infant, as long as you don’t have one that relies on you. Of course there are many people who still do act that way even with children, but I contend that they should be shot and put somewhere underground to think about their actions for a while. Call it a permanent time out.

So when I heard that J was having a baby, I thought ‘Of course he is’. Because it is what we do. And J had grown up quite a bit, from what I could remember from my drinking and dialing episodes. I was very excited to see what happens when someone who was dead set against children makes a 180 degree turn in 5 years…for I could see that it might happen to me.

The first thing that I noticed was that there was a decided lack of patience and time on his behalf. Very rude, thought I, for him to abandon his friend for pursuits such as money for his family and food for his child. There was a blessing in disguise, however, for him being so far away. That is, that unlike other parents, he was on my schedule. I’m not sure what gene is supressed, or what synaptic gap becomes inactive in a new parent, but they suddenly think that anytime that the baby is up is a great time to call their childless friends. That means 8am on a weekend. Perhaps they are suffering from ‘Parent Brain’, (a condition which I will explore further), I am sure, but they figure that as long as they are up, they may as well share the joy or misery with all they can. So with J being three hours behind, I was never subjected to these 8am calls. He, however, was subject to my post-pub calls that were at 1am for me – a perfect time to call him, I thought. Kid is asleep; he’s probably having some beers with Mrs. J, getting ready for a night of passionate lovemaking, as I imagined parenthood would be. I could never fully understand why he wasn’t interested in reliving old days, or able to laugh at the plight of our favourite hockey team. He seemed to be missing something, other than the alcohol buzz I was experiencing. It was almost as if something else had taken over his life. The ‘Parent Brain’ factor had begun.

The Parent Brain is something I have noticed particularly in mothers, but is also very prevalent in fathers who only have girls. I’ve stared a man in the eyes that has three teenage daughters. A man that I once played hockey with, shared bar stories with, and was a wingmen for while we traipsed through the bars searching for Ms. Right Now. And here is, staring blankly at me as I describe sports to him, ask him if he’s tried new beers, or seen a movie with the latest hot thing de jour. But no, he stares blankly. So as a test, I ask about The Pussycat Dolls, or Hannah Montana, and he lurches to life, talking about all the accessories and clothes and songs. I walk away sadly as he continues to rant. The Parent Brain has consumed him completely. He is a shell of a man. Mothers are no different. An intelligent woman, with whom I could have discussed the woes of the world, now can only speak in monosyllabic words, and has to struggle to not talk to me like an infant. She constantly asks for bah-bahs, and doo-doos, and is forever lifing her child to her nose to smell for a dirty diaper. It is a sad, sad state of affairs for the childless to see this happening to tho ones they love.

Of course, I don’t feel superior – I simply watch in amazement as one by one, all fall in the same way. I feel sure that I won’t be able to avoid the inevitable if it happens to me, but for the time being, I can only watch in amazement, and track my thoughts here.

"A Start" by J

So I never ever wanted kids. And to be honest I never really thought I'd get married. Then there's my good friend Z. When we were at university (too many years ago now to even think about counting) his girlfriend was late one month, but what would scare most ordinary red blooded twenty-something males senseless didn't phase him one bit. "If she's pregnant then we'll get married and start to have kids...we're gonna one day anyway" was his attitude.

So let us recap this short but very crucial first paragraph. I didn't want kids. Z did.

These days we're in our mid to late thirties and I have been very happily married for ten years (I met a wicked girl who didn't want kids either -- perfect!) and I have an 18 month old son (luckily we both changed our minds at about the same time -- superb!) who I always adore and almost always enjoy. Meanwhile Z has now been married nearly a year (not to the late girl, who did get her period eventually -- I know you were wondering) but seems to have no plans for children, and is still living a pseudo-single lifestyle.

"How can this be?" I have asked myself. So far no answer. Just some thoughts on the subject.

It isn't that I'm jealous of Z for having more free time. OK. It is that I'm jealous of Z for having more free time. And it isn't that I feel Z is missing out on one of life's greatest joys by putting off procreating possibly until it is too late. OK. It is this too. I guess the point I am trying to make is that I am, by definition of my human condition, a surplus of conflicting emotions about fatherhood. With its universe of delights and its never ending responsibilities it is impossible not to feel at odds with oneself. I can at once be more than a little displeased that I am unable to drink beer and watch the hockey game, and completely overjoyed by my son screaming "BAAAAAATH" at the top of his lungs when it is -- can you guess? -- bath time. You see this is one of about only 20 words he knows at the moment but it is how intensely expressive he is with it that puts me in stitches!

So when Z calls me during this busy dinner/bed/bath time of night, and he is perhaps a little tipsy or at the very least a bit merry, and he carries on about how on Saturday he stayed up until 3am, and on Sunday he woke up at 1pm to watch movies and sports for the rest of the day, it is from this conflicted state that I listen and react to him. Especially considering that because of the time difference between where Z and I live these days it is 9pm where he is during these calls, but what I know and he doesn't, is that by 9pm where I am, MY bedtime is usually looming large.

I don't think my life is better than Z's because fatherhood seems full of more meaningful undertakings. Nor do I think his life is superior because of the countless freedoms he enjoys. What I truly feel, in that strange calm sort of way that comes from knowing you're in this for the long haul, is both.