I’ll be the first to acknowledge it—my maternal instincts are a little off. I was never that girl dreaming about motherhood, and honestly, I still haven’t become one. Over the years, I’ve wavered on the topic of having children, somewhat akin to a complicated game of hopscotch. Feet down: no kids. One foot down: maybe, but feeling a bit unsteady.
Recently, I’ve settled into a firm stance of two feet down, and that tends to baffle people. They struggle to grasp why a woman would consciously choose a life without a child—a choice that society has conditioned us all to desire. Here are a few of the inquiries I’ve encountered regarding my childless status (and those of my friends):
- What’s wrong with her?
- Is she infertile?
- Is she in a same-sex relationship?
Usually, the response I receive is pity, accompanied by well-meaning reassurances—reasons why I shouldn’t consider ending my life as a “spinster.” When a particularly expectant friend discovered I was childless, she practically exuded pity. With her head tilted and eyebrows raised, she made this overly sympathetic expression and said, “Don’t worry, a few years ago I hadn’t met my partner yet, and look at me now!” Okay, my dear, let’s take a step back.
Did I presume you stumbled into your life by accidentally getting pregnant? Did I project my fears onto you and assure you that in 18 years you’ll be free? No, I did not. So please extend me the same courtesy. Don’t assume that my single status and empty womb are signs of colossal failures or a cruel twist of fate. These are deliberate choices. I haven’t simply drifted through life, allowing unexpected turns to dictate my path.
Sure, there has been a bit of aimless wandering here and there. My twenties were filled with exploration. While circumstances played a role, there’s been a lot of thought and conscious decision-making involved as well. Let me elaborate.
I adore children. As a childcare provider, I witness incredible moments. I get to see kids experience new things for the first time and help them navigate complex thoughts within their tiny minds. Children teach me about resilience, curiosity, and the importance of living in the moment. There’s nothing quite like the joy of a toddler rushing across the room to show me a sticker they received. Kids make me feel needed and loved.
However, they can also be demanding little tyrants. They’re like tiny beings with insatiable needs who have no idea how much work they create. They don’t appreciate the luxury of naps, never reimburse you for their expenses, and often choose to be independent only when you’re running behind schedule. On a personal note, kids of all kinds have felt entitled to invade my space in ways that can be quite uncomfortable. And that’s just the beginning of the psychological games they play as they grow older. Anyone who claims that parenting doesn’t require every ounce of strength and patience is either lying or has constant help.
Let’s also address the topic of intimacy. Like many women, I grapple with my self-worth as it relates to my body and desirability. This “temptress-quotient” I refer to has roots that are complex and often unclear. It involves what I’ve witnessed in relationships and the lengths people go to find fulfillment. It’s about the changes I’ve seen over time and the pieces of myself that I’ve observed women set aside after becoming mothers. It raises fears about how motherhood could alter my identity and sense of self—and yes, it relates to fitting into my favorite jeans.
Ultimately, I ask myself a few key questions: Am I ready to take on the responsibility of another human being? Have I developed enough as a person to parent well? Am I capable of providing a child with everything they deserve?
Let me clarify—I’m not suggesting my reasoning is infallible. I’m not arguing that motherhood diminishes one’s allure (I know plenty of stunning mothers) or that I won’t someday regret missing out on the profound experience of raising a child. I’m not even denying that I might wake up tomorrow feeling the urge to have children. My motivations may be selfish and steeped in fear, but they are mine, and I’ve invested considerable time understanding them. Just because motherhood is an irreplaceable role for some doesn’t mean my choice to forgo it is simply a failure to audition.
Life doesn’t merely happen to me; it never has.
So here’s a proposal, dear friend. Let’s stop exchanging condolences for the paths we’ve chosen. Let’s assume we’re both exactly where we want to be. For more insights on home insemination, check out this informative post here. If you’re curious about fertility boosters, this resource is immensely helpful. And for questions about pregnancy and insurance, you can find excellent information here.
In summary, choosing to remain childless isn’t an oversight; it’s a considered decision based on my values and life experiences. Let’s celebrate our choices rather than pity them.