My tragedy is in finding out that I didn't want kids after I became happily married. I'm thinking of procreating with my wife instead of losing her. I'm trying hard to be unselfish here, but the suffering I'd experience post-divorce makes me horrified.
Wow, I know that feeling. In my case, my forebodings hadn't really concretized into a genuine philosophical position yet, and I caved under the universal but utterly false aphorism, 'Everything will work out, honey'. I tell myself these days that things would've been different if only I'd been exposed to the ideas I and others are now espousing. But that's water under the bridge, and I love my children.
However, because I love my children you can be damned sure that, had I the chance to do it over again, I would NEVER bring them into existence- to labor, to 'do their duties', to suffer, and to die. And even though I might miss their presence in my life, they wouldn't miss anything, and would never know what it's like to miss anything, or to lose anyone, or to become disenchanted with a life filled with pain, and loss, and meaningless toil. They would never inhabit bodies that would sooner or later turn on them via disease, or accident, or simply through the aging process. And they wouldn't ever be forced to tell themselves lies to avoid the reality of the ever encroaching doom that's creeping up on each one of us out of the mist of an unsure future, where the only certainties are dissolution and death in some shape or form.
Rock, if you choose to have children, knowing the stakes, you will hate yourself for the rest of your life. Even if you learn to sublimate, the hatred will be there, buried. Personally, I'd rather lose 1,000 wives than go through what I've gone through, even acknowledging the great joy my children have brought me. Because it's not about me, after all. It's about them, and the fact that in bringing new life into the world, I have in the same breath condemned them to some degree of misery (possibly a LOT), and death. Back to where they came from in the first place.
I'll finish this with an excerpt from my book-
What is so crucial about our particular existence that we feel compelled to roll children out of their eternal slumber, slap them around for awhile, feed them, fuck them, pull them through knotholes, blindfold them, turn them round and round, then send them back off to find their beds? It makes no sense!