How I Know We're Ready For Kids

hang gliding

We went hang gliding together; I think we're ready for kids.

When I was young and channel-surfing, I happened to catch the tail end of The Boy Who Could Fly. Your typical dreams-do-come-true '80s movie, it revolves around the life of an autistic boy who has a fascination with flight. In short: he believes he can fly. And in the end (SPOILER ALERT, PEOPLE), he does.

Of course, after seeing this movie, I wished more than anything else that I could fly, too. My dreams were overrun with flying, and I would awaken with a desperate ache in my chest, a nervous buzz in my stomach, that was indicative of my all-encompassing need to attain the power of flight. Of course, once I had resigned myself to the fact that this was impossible, I latched onto an idea of the next best thing: hang gliding. For the next 20 or so years, it was the only item on my personal bucket list.

Well, consider my bucket list complete. This past weekend, as a sort of combination anniversary/birthday gift, my husband dropped more money than he had in order to make my dreams come true. Not only that but, despite a severe fear of heights, he paid even more money to experience it with me. Talk about a glutton for punishment. She Risked Her Life For Love

I give my husband a lot of crap. Pledging my life to him three years ago was a decision I agonized over and, despite loving him truly, madly, deeply, I still can't help but wonder from time to time: did we make the right decision?

I ask myself this when he loses his temper. I ask myself this when we have that same fight... again. I ask it when I'm lost in another bout of depression, or just feeling generally neurotic. Is he good enough for me? I ask myself and then, acknowledging my own, multitudinous weaknesses, Am I good enough for him? These are the questions that keep me up at night, even more so now that we're planning on having children. Will he be a good father? Will I be a good mother? Do we have what it takes to get this parenting thing right?

Then he hems my pants or brings me an ice pop or tosses out a ridiculous baby name or allows himself to be strapped into a harness attached to a hang glider and towed thousands of feet into the air, and I'm reminded of how generous he is, and kind, and how willing he is to support me and make my dreams come true. I'm giddy thinking of how lucky our children will be to have that same type of support. 6 Ways To Be Extra-Supportive

So yes. I believe he's ready to be a father.

And after stepping into that hang gliding harness, lifting off, and finally experiencing the power of flight (I experienced both awe, and the intense fear that my sunglasses would fall off), I feel ready to leave behind my own childhood dreams, and to make someone else's dreams come true.

Later that day, we climbed into bed together and got down with our first deliberate bit of babymaking.

How did you know you were ready?