No Cat Disease

Childless by choice I often find myself having awkward conversations about babies with random strangers. In these conversations I give various explanations as to why Jeff and I choose not to have kids. "We love to travel and know we wouldn't have the money or the flexibility to travel the way we like to if we had kids," and "I give so much to children at work that I know there wouldn't be anything left over for my own children," are two of the more inane excuses. "I know parenting is a lot of work and I just don't have it in me," "We're both pretty selfish and would have a hard time with parenting," and "I've never had that burning desire to be a mom that drives so many women I know" are among the more honest and crass answers to the question, "Oh, you don't have kids? Why not?"

I was shopping for baby clothes for several friends who are in some state of pregnancy or new parenting the other day. A kindly older woman was ringing me out and making idle conversation about the pieces I had purchased. Inevitably she asked me if I had any kids. "No I replied. My partner has a chronic illness and he has decided NOT to take a risk and pass it on to any children." (This is a GREAT excuse to use if I want to abruptly end a conversation.) I continued with the sales clerk, "So we have the joy of visiting with other people's babies, and then going home together to be with our cats."

"Cats?" she said skeptically, "You have cats?" I felt a rush of judgment coming on. The clerk continued, "I've never met anyone who had a chronic illness who could also have a cat."

Dumbfounded I cocked my head at her and mentally began cataloguing all of the chronic diseases I knew of that didn't involve breathing - cerebral palsy, multiple sclerosis, rheumatoid arthritis, Huntington's Disease, Addison's Disease, Crohn's Disease, Colitis, any number of heart ailments. The list could go on. Then I looked back at the clerk, politely accepted the bag of gifts I had just purchased and walked out of the store without saying another word.

Accepting our bodies

One of the great things about living with someone with a chronic illness is that there is no stone throwing when it comes to one's physical imperfections. I don't worry about Jeff eyeing my occasional, and nearly predictable, weight gain with suspicion. And I hope Jeff doesn't worry about any judgments that may briefly pass through my consciousness about the failings of his organs or his weight or the cowlicks on the back of his head.

Let the record show we both carry our own internal diatribes about our bodies - the focus may be our weight, digestion, or wrinkles. Or maybe we worry about heart and lung capacity, muscle strength and grey hair. Our internal complaints certainly seep into our shared life, occasionally poisoning our physical closeness or our ability to create spontaneous fun. And we deal with this when it happens. The good news, however, is that we don't exacerbate the physical anxieties of the other with snarky comments, snide observations, or non-verbal judgments.

This is one of the many reasons this relationship is peaceful and comforting to me.

Pillowtalk

Gretchen: "I'm afraid I have some flesh eating bacteria on my face."
Jeff: "I can't be with you if something eats your face. I implore you to get that checked out."