The mathematical concept of degrees of freedom is familiar enough to recall having studied when I got my MPH, but not relevant enough on a daily basis to remember the definition. It has vaguely to do with the number of values in a statistical calculation that can vary, affecting the distribution curve of any given statistical model.
If that is a huge turnoff, don't worry, because I plan to co-opt the term for purely literary purposes.
Last weekend, my wife and I met up with old friends in the mountains far from home. The leaves were just starting to change color, and the conversation revolved around caring for aging parents, launching our children, and figuring out what we wanted to be when we grow up.
Between the mountains and our departure from the airport, we had half of our final day in town to spend with another old friend over lunch. He is in his late 50s, extremely fit, and dating a younger woman with an old soul (we met her later that day, and she charmed us). It was time for him to make some big decisions.
He is deeply reflective and extremely candid, which I value, so I asked him if, in considering a future with her, he was motivated more by a desire for her specific companionship or fear of a future alone. He replied that he cares deeply about this woman and could envision a happy future together - definitely the former.
His big dilemma is that she wants kids in her life and he's ambivalent.
There are certain decisions that constrain the variety we will experience in our lives (even as they expand our capacities elsewhere):
- marriage
- kids
- religious observance
- geography
- family relationships (I include in this family by choice or marriage)
Each of these choices, in one way or another, reduces the degrees of freedom we are subsequently able to exert. We cut off options to invest in each of them.
We listened to our friend contemplate his circumstances, and we did not opine. He seemed to be seeking sympathy rather than a solution.
Here's what my internal monologue was considering: having kids has no doubt been one of life's greatest constraints.
That statement contains dual meanings. The limitations on travel, impulse and self-care are real and should not be taken lightly. From that perspective, my friend has already built a life he loves, a routine that keeps him physically fit and intellectually stimulated, and a beautiful home he has invested tremendous time and effort into tailoring to his unique specifications.
Starting a family will no doubt throw that balance into total disarray, and he is right to be both fearful and cautious before advancing into unknown territory (to say nothing of the challenges of being an older dad).
At the same time, having children is an experience like no other. You are forever putting someone else's well-being before your own (true, marriage or partnering without children can accomplish this as well). It involves a degree of pain you can never be free of; you will only ever be as happy as your least happy child.
This forced expanding of your heart has no equal. It is not right for everyone, and it is profoundly destabilizing - many wonderful partnerships have been irreparably undone by the addition of children.
I came to realize through our conversation that my friend is carefully weighing his next steps with the care and consideration they deserve, and I wish him well in sorting out his future.