THE GUARDIAN TEST

I don’t like hospitals. Hospitals are places where people go in but they don’t come out. But short of having a home birth I’m sort of stuck. Plus I’m already spread eagle, toes in the air, baby maker on display for what seems like an audience of doctors, nurses, residents, and interns. If one more person comes in this room, I’m going to start selling tickets. Labor and delivery is like a vaginal clown car. As my doctor yells push, I yell back, “Don’t let me dieeeeeee!” I just want to make it through alive. Sure we had 9 months to figure this stuff out, but it’s not that easy to settle on the right one. It’s a choice that could change your kid’s life and now he’s going to be born without one. But since the doctor’s telling me to push, I suppose it’s time. It’s time to have this baby and pick that guardian.

You spend your whole life feeling invincible, but give birth and you start thinking about death. Being a Mom wasn’t the scary part of having a baby for me, it was having the baby that kept me up at night. I’d never been in the hospital before and frankly, most hospitals seem to have a high percentage of dead people. Sure I’d consider how I might go before, but I never had anyone who really cared. My parents and siblings would be sad but they’d be fine. I’ve got about $267 left to my pre-marriage name so there’s little to squabble over and my husband would undoubtedly replace me with a newer, younger model. But my kid, I need to make sure he’ll be looked after.

So how do you decide how to decide? Ideally, we’d pick a family member as the guardian, but with family comes fighting. Either my death would have to coincide with everyone getting along, or we need some other options. I consider picking the person closest to my son until my husband reminds me that will probably be our son’s Nanny. “Right,” I tell him “when she said she’d work weekends, she probably didn’t mean for the rest of her life." I suggest sending our son to one of our wealthiest friends. Sure it seems like a superficial way to go, but it’ll be bad enough to be an orphan, no need to make it worse driving a shitty car and wearing hand me downs. But short of asking for tax returns from all the wealthy candidates, there’s really no way to know.

We’re at a stalemate. We need some help. If only there were a Zagat Survey for friends, then you could pick your Maid of Honor, Best Man, Godparents, and Guardians by checking the boxes, considering all categories equally in an unbiased, unemotional decision. What we need is a Guardian Test.

My husband puts his MBA hat on, setting up spread sheets with all our friends’ names, categorizing them, and color coding them according to marital status, income, religion, and lifestyle. He says he’s “creating a framework” from which we can decide. Framework is one of his fancy business terms like matrix or pre-processing. As far as I can tell all business terms come down to men finding a way to be as organized as women are all the time. So if he needs spreadsheets, have at it as long as I get to give Zero’s to all the Republicans, Divorcees, and low earners. Unfortunately, he gives Zero’s to those he refers as my friends “so liberal, they’re communist.” We’ve basically canceled each other out. And while the remaining list yields some good candidates, there’s only few remaining after we both gives Zero’s to the people our son will actually interact with and see with any regularity.

We lose more contenders when we ask the tougher questions. Would they raise him like we would? Do they like to do what we do? Do they believe what we believe? While friends may share experiences, it doesn’t mean all friends share the same world view. The qualities that make a good parent will make a good guardian, the answer lies in the people who are the best parents.

So I think about what my parents did well, and what they didn’t. And when I think about what they did well, not one thing has to do with politics, religion, location, or lifestyle. The only thing that comes to mind is how my parents loved us. Vacations were great and so were new clothes, but what meant the most to me was time spent sitting in their laps reading a new book, or when my Mom slept on the street to wait in line to get us into a better school. Somehow they always found a way to make sure we had what we needed, not necessarily what we wanted, but always what we needed. We felt safe, cared for, and were encouraged to be strong, open-minded people. We felt loved.

There really only needs to be one question on The Guardian Test: Who will love my kids the most ? Who will sleep on the street to get them into the right school, who will hold their hand when they’re scared, teach them to swim, teach them to drive, remind them to laugh, and encourage them to think and learn with abandon.

With that in mind, the choice seems obvious. And while my husband and I won’t vote for the same Presidential candidate, we did vote for the same Guardian. No one will love my family like my family, so that’s who we chose. Ideally, we never need to put them to the test, but if we do, I hope my death coincides with the moment in time we’re all getting along. If not, I’m going to have to give my Nanny a very impressive raise.

If you want to know whom we chose, you’ll have to wait. I won’t be around when you find out so just look for the person with $276 in one hand and the soft hand of my little one in the other.