Red, untamed ringlets shaped her face. Wide, blue eyes were constantly agape. She roamed across the yard, picking flowers while her bare feet sunk into the silky grass. Full of energy and youth, she would spend her days running and jumping and laughing.
She was young, but she knew what she wanted for herself.
Her best friend, who lived in the big, blue house next to hers, was a year and eight months older. The eight months was an often-talked-about distinction. She liked the idea of hanging out with someone older, and her best friend liked the idea of being older. They liked the idea of the age gap.
They blamed most dissimilarities on the age difference. She was younger, so her style was youthful, loud and bold. Her friend’s was older, more sophisticated and easier on the eye. She drank chocolate milk while her friend stuck to white. She watched cartoons while her friend talked to boys on the phone.
One difference, however, could never be chalked up to the age gap.
From the very first day of their friendship to the day when her best friend moved out of the blue house next store, they could not agree on one thing: Motherhood.
They were young, so they disagreed in the manner that two adolescent girls do. In the way that one could not understand how the other didn’t long to be a mother, and the other could not comprehend how one knew she wanted to be a mother at such a young age.
The disagreement seems silly, in hindsight, but back then, it was a big deal. The games most young girls are expected to play together- baby dolls, barbies and pretend “house” are not so fun when one doesn’t want that for herself. Whispering about baby names late at night isn’t so secretive when one never thought about it before.
The friendship faded, not because of the disagreement, but because friendships between two young girls do not typically last a lifetime. She did sometimes wonder, however, if she had spent those years holding baby dolls and playing “family,” if her mind would have changed.
As she got older, her future plans seemed to affect more and more of her relationships. Her mother looked disappointed when she told her. Her father was a touch more distressed, pinning the idea on a teenage phase. Her friends wondered why while her boyfriends became ex-boyfriends, chalking breakups to “no future together.”
But still, motherhood was no desire of hers. She did not want to have kids.
She is me. I am her.
For most of my life, I have questioned my lack of desire to do what many women dream of. Holding their child in their arms for the first time. First birthdays. First days at school. Graduations. Weddings.
As a woman, loving a child is supposed to be my dream. My future.
But that has never been me. That is never been what I wanted.
When asked why I do not want children, my first response used to travel along the lines of Oh, I don’t know, I don’t think I’d be a good mother. Followed by something like maybe I’ll change my mind.
But over the years, I have realized that it is ok not to want children. It’s wonderful really. And it’s wonderful because it is my choice.
So, if as a young woman, you have questioned, shamed or doubted what you want for your future, reassure yourself that your future does not have to look like everyone else’s. Your future is simply yours.
No matter where you end up in the future, who you love, hold or care about, just know it is right. You are right.
Now, everytime someone asks me why I do not want children, I look at them with a smile and say because I don’t. With no explanation, no defense and no doubt. I encourage you to do the same.