I’ll be the first to admit that my maternal instincts seem to have some wiring issues. I was never one of those girls who dreamt of becoming a mother, and even now, that dream remains unfulfilled. Over the years, I’ve bounced back and forth on the idea of having kids—it’s been like an unpredictable game of hopscotch. Two feet down: absolutely no kids. One foot down: maybe, but it leaves me feeling a bit unsteady and disoriented.
Recently, I’ve settled into a solid stretch of two feet down, and that seems to baffle others. People struggle to understand how a woman might willingly choose a life without the children we’ve all been socialized to desire. Here are some of the questions I’ve overheard about my childless friends, and I can only assume they’ve been directed at me as well:
- What’s her problem?
- Is she infertile?
- Is she gay?
The responses I typically receive are steeped in pity, often accompanied by reassurances—suggestions on why I should hold off on spiraling into despair. One particularly pregnant acquaintance, upon discovering I was childless, nearly dripped with sympathy. She tilted her head, raised her brows, and gave me a profoundly sad expression. “Don’t worry,” she said, “A few years back, I hadn’t even met my husband, and look at me now!” Okay, Pregnant Friend, let’s not go there.
Did I imply that you stumbled into your current circumstance by accidentally getting pregnant? Did I project my fears onto you and reassure you that in 18 years, you’ll finally be free? No, I did not. So please, extend me the same consideration. Don’t assume that my unmarried status and empty womb signify monumental failures or cruel twists of fate. They are deliberate choices. I haven’t simply drifted through life, letting unexpected turns dictate my path.
Sure, there’s been a bit of aimless wandering, and I’ve allowed some unexpected detours to shape my decisions. I explored a lot during my twenties. While life circumstances played a role, there’s been plenty of contemplation and intentional decision-making as well. Let me share a bit about that.
I genuinely enjoy being around kids. As a nanny, I have the privilege of witnessing some incredible moments. I get to see children experience things for the first time and help them navigate complex emotions within their tiny minds. Kids teach me about resilience, curiosity, and the importance of being present. There’s nothing quite like when my 2-year-old charge rushes across the ballet studio, leaping into my arms, bubbling with excitement to show me her new dinosaur stamps. Kids make me feel loved, needed, and fulfilled.
That said, they can also be little tyrants. They are demanding beings with needs that must be met immediately, often with no awareness of the effort involved. They don’t grasp how fortunate they are to take naps, they don’t reimburse you for the money they cost, and the only time they seem to want to do anything for themselves is when you’re running late. And on a personal note, kids of all ages seem to feel entitled to treat my body like a jungle gym. All of that is child’s play compared to the psychological games they play as they grow older. Anyone who claims that raising kids doesn’t require unlimited strength and patience is either lying or has a team of nannies at their service.
Relationships and Self-Worth
Now, let’s talk about relationships. Like any good, red-blooded American woman, I grapple with my self-worth in relation to my body and desirability. I refer to it as my temptress-quotient, a complex and often opaque issue rooted in various experiences. It’s about observing the changes in relationships and the lengths people go to in pursuit of missing happiness. It’s shaped by the examples I’ve seen and my own encounters. It encompasses how everything shifts over time in ways that can be utterly unforeseen, as well as the pieces of self that many women seem to set aside after becoming mothers. The thought of motherhood activates fears about how it could alter my entire sense of identity. And yes, it’s also about fitting into my skinny jeans.
Ultimately, I face a few straightforward questions: Am I ready to be responsible for another human being? Have I become the person I need to be to be a good parent? Am I able to provide a child with everything she deserves?
Let me clarify—I’m not asserting that my reasoning is flawless. I’m not suggesting that motherhood can’t coexist with personal allure (I know plenty of stunning mothers), nor am I ruling out the possibility that I could wake up a decade from now and regret missing out on the profound experience of motherhood. I’m not even claiming that I won’t wake up tomorrow and feel that my life won’t be complete without a child. My reasons may be selfish, vain, and steeped in fear, but they are my reasons, and I’ve invested considerable time reflecting on them. Just because being a mother is a role you find indispensable doesn’t mean that my absence from it is due to a failure in auditioning for the part.
Life hasn’t simply happened to me. It never does.
So, let’s make a pact, Pregnant Friend. Let’s not exchange condolences over the paths we’ve chosen. Let’s agree that we’re both exactly where we want to be. If you’re interested in exploring more about this topic, check out this insightful piece on Cervical Insemination. And if you’re considering at-home options, Make A Mom provides excellent resources for insemination kits. For further information on pregnancy and related topics, take a look at Medical News Today.
Summary
The author reflects on her decision to remain childless, challenging societal assumptions about motherhood and the choices women make. While she acknowledges the joys and challenges of being around children as a nanny, she emphasizes her conscious decision to prioritize her own path and identity. Ultimately, she invites others to respect her choice and recognize that not all women find fulfillment in motherhood.
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